#mama just killed a duck

[clan-ackerman]

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🩸🩸 BUTTER KNIVES🩸🩸

Human!Alastor x f!reader

blood / size kink / bitting / incorrect usage of knives / virgin reader / fucking in general / ALASTOR IS FILTHY AS HELL / porn with plot

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Your father always disapproved of him. A girl like you should never marry such man.

"A radio host? Pumpkin, you need a man who will be able to look after you when you grow old." Your father had said to you when you had gathered all your courage at dinner table one evening.

"But... I love him father..." You mumbled quietly.

"Love? You're far too young to know what love is. And besides, didn't you see at the ball how all the girls were looking at him? I can bet, that he looks at all the girls the same." Your father continued and dabbing at his moustache with napkin, cleared his throat:

"I must head out. Moon is out tonight and it's perfect for hunting. Lads will be waiting on me by now."

"Stay safe." Your mother kissed your father on cheek and saw him off. You were left sitting alone at the table, staring at your half eaten plate.

"Dont take it so hard, petal." Your mother stood next to you and gently run her hand through your hair.

"A man I respect is keeping me away from the man that my heart yearns for..." You sighed.

"Does father want me to marry someone I do not love? I'd kill myself in such marriage, mother."

"Don't even say such thing. You know your father is only looking out for you. For your future." Your mother said, trying to calm you.

"Alastor is also looking out for me." You narrowed your eyes at mother. With a hard look down at you, your mother advised:

"I think... It would be better if you did not see him anymore. Don't make your father angry, petal."

You looked up at her, not believing what she had just said.

"What..? Mama... How could you say such thing?" Your lip started to tremble. With blurry vision you looked around the table, butter knives shining in dim light. With angry huff you tried to brush your tears away and stood up, chair falling over in process. Your mother took a step back:

"Behave now." Mother said in sharp tone. You took a quick glance at the clock on the mantle piece and then bolted for the door.

"Where are YOU going at such hour?!" Your mother grabbed your hand before you even got two steps away from table.

"Clearly away from here." You spat, not breaking eye contact.

"You will sit back down, finish your dinner and go straight to bed." Your mother stated, her grip on your arm tightening. What she didn't notice, was how your other hand sneaked behind you and blindly reached for the first thing - the glimmering butter knife.

"I will not do such thing. Now. Let. Go." You said through gritted teeth.

"That's it. You insolent daughter." Your mother's hand reached up to grab your hair, but before she could do so - you were pointing the knife at her.

With wide eyes, both of you stared at the knife that was between you two.

"Mother.... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean--"

Your mother looked up at you and in one swift motion slapped you right across your face. With a cry you clutched your cheek and finally escaped the house. Leaving your mother to seeth back at the doorstep.

Quickly running down the front stairs of the house, you bolted across the yard. Ducked through the wooden fence that held your father's horses out of mother's garden, and run bare feet in the field. Trying to put as much distance between her and yourself.

When you finally had reached the other far off side of stockyard, you felt like you could breath again. Not bothering to climb over the fence you sat in the wet dewy grass and leaned against the fence pole. Distinct sounds of hunters gunshots and hound howls echoed in the forest behind.

You looked down at your hands. Right one still clutching the butter knife. From holding it incorrectly in your hand while on the run, you had accidentally nicked your fingers. New tears gathered in your eyes and you let out pathetic whimper.

"Y/n...?" You heard steps approaching on the other side of the fence on the gravel road.

"A-Alastor?" You immediately jumped up. Switching the knife from one clammy hand to other and hiding it behind your back. Now free hand, whipped your nose and cheeks, unknowingly to you - leaving red streaks across your face.

"What has my darling doe crying?" He quickly approached the fence when he picked up on your sniffling.

"Its fine, Alastor. Just had quarrel with my mother." You tried to laugh it off.

"A bloody one, as I see." He eyed you, reaching for your cheek. You tried to step away, but his warm touch was so inviting.

"Show me your hands, love." he said. He wasn't asking.

Swallowing thickly you brought both hands in front of you. Feeling like child in trouble. Trembling, and both bloody by now.

"We were having family dinner. And my father was reminiscing on the previous ball. And asked if I fancied any men there-" Alastor eyed you sharply for a second, unknowingly to you as you kept on rambling:

"-and I said that there was a man that I have had eyes for such long time, that the other men at the ball didn't even interest me. And he asked who. I said it's you. And he said that I should look elsewhere. I stood my ground and told him I love you. And he disapproved. Then mother said I should listen to him. Then she was screaming, saying I should stop seeing you. I got angry. She grabbed me. Tried to pull my hair and I... I just -I just pulled a knife at her... And then... And now I'm here..." You ranted so quickly that now you were out of breath.

With gentle chuckle, Alastor reached for your hand that was holding the knife, his ever seeing eyes, noticing the cuts on your other palm. He slowly frapped your fingers alongside his around the hilt of the butter knife and pulled both of your hands across the fence.

"When in dire straits, slice the sinew to halt movement," he murmured, gently drawing the knife across his chest. "Stab and pivot to temporarily cease motion," he directed, gesturing towards the center of his chest.

"You're wicked, Alastor..." You mumbled looking up at him.

"And you should never shed your blood. Though I am touched by your eagerness in defending your convictions concerning me, I would prefer not to witness your blood spilled, my love."

"Even if blood is such a pretty colour on you." He continued, his eyes flickering across your face. Standing up on the first wooden beam of the fence, he now stood way taller than you. Grabbing your chin he tilted your face one way, then the other.

"Since you say I'm wicked-" he gave you a cheeky smile,

"I might be afraid that your parents are correct. You should stay away from me." He looked away from you and across the field behind you.

"But I love you, Alastor..." You whispered so quietly, afraid that he might not have heard you.

"You have brought a knife in bloody hands tonight. What an odd way of confessing one's love." He bent his head closer to your face.

"What a lovely thing you are." His voice suddenly sounded sultry. It was enough for you to stand on your tippy toes and press your lips against his.

You could feel his smile against your lips. One of his hands sneaking to hold the back of your neck and pulling you closer. When that was not enough, in swift motion his legs swung over the fence and he was right in front of you. His lips never leaving yours.

It felt so right to kiss him. To kiss him felt like finally quelling an obsession. Just to feel the painful withdrawal as soon as his lips traveled to your neck to leave love bites there. Love bites that bloomed the same way as the blood splatters on your light summer dress.

His hands traveled down your back, the butter knife still in his hand. Both of you knew that no one would come down this road at this hour, but there was urgency in your actions. Desperation, almost. Your hands traveled to the front of his shirt, to get rid of the bow tie and open couple of buttons.

"The next move shan't be quite gentlemanly of me, my doe.." he was breathing hard and put the hilt of the knife in his mouth. His tongue briefly tasted your blood on it. Alastor's hands deftly gathered the skirt part of your dress and pushed you against the fence. Then raising the fabric around your hips and bunching it to the side, he grabbed the knife and pinned your dress to the fence.

"Alastor..." Your breath caught in your throat as your lower half was exposed to the cold nights air.

"Too much?" He asked, now stepping closer as his hands worked on his belt.

He clearly did intend to fuck you here. In empty field. Against a fence. In middle of the night.

"No, just perfect, you're perfect..." you breathed, hands looping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"Lovely." He whispered and kissed you. His hand reaching down between your legs.

"Ah..." You moaned at the first contact.

"Needy little thing you are..." Alastor sighed against your lips, feeling the wetness between your legs.

It was the first time someone else's hands were touching you down there, besides your own. Feeling was not entirely new, but the anticipation was almost killing you. Your hand around Alastor's neck tightened, pulling him down, so you could hide your face in his shoulder. Breath heavy against his neck.

His fingers deftly slid through your slit.

"How.. many...?" Alastor implied, trying to shift his face away and look at you, making him pull his hand slightly away and his fingers circling back to your clit.

"Ah.." you gasped, not hearing his question and just trying to hide your face again.

"Sweetheart..." Alastor's hand slid from your cunt and instead dug his fingers in - right where your thigh met your pussy. This finally got your attention and your head shot up to look at him. You could almost swear that you could see your own debauched image reflecting in his glasses. He tilted his head down at you, and your reflection was gone and his warm eyes were staring right into your soul.

"How many men you have sle-" before he could ask the question you were shaking your head.

"None. No one." You said. "None has touched me this way," you looked down at his hand between your legs. His pointer finger that was closest to your pussy, slowly slid through your slit once more. Your head fell back and you stared at the sky. Stars were slowly starting to appear in the night sky.

"... except myself." You swallowed. Your head feeling empty of any coherent thought. Alastor's mouth fell open slightly:

"Say the word, and I'll stop, my doe..." He leaned down to your exposed neck, and gently run his nose up and down your pulse point.

Your hand shot down and grabbed his wrist:

"I want you and you alone."

His smile against your neck was almost infectious.

"Well, then... To rephrase..." He planted slow, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his free hand pulling your dress down your shoulder. He moved his lips against your ear, as if to tell you something that no one else could ever hear:

"...How many of your own fingers have you taken?" you could hear his wicked smile in his voice. And you could feel his hand moving between your legs. His middle finger slowly, almost feather lightly, circled your clit and slid down to your opening. Your breath hitched:

"A-Alastor..."

When you didn't provide him the answer, he quickly pulled his hand out of your underwear and grabbed your hand putting it up between both of you. He pressed his palm against yours and looked at your hands. You did the same. Both of you could see how his fingers shined in the moonlight from your wetness coating them.

"Tell me."

"One."

"How far?"

You were staring at your pressed together hands. He was looking straight at you, watching how your eyes showed the realization of how much bigger his hands were and how longer his fingers were.

"Second knuckle..." You whispered and your eyes met his, over the frames if his glasses.

"Oh, my little doe... I will give you so much more than that..." He chuckled and looked at your hands as his fingers interlinked with yours.

"When I kneel before you, you shall receive all I offer. Diligently." He let go of your hand and took off his glasses.

"Understood?"

You nodded. For such a gentleman, he definitely had such a filthy mouth. You'll soon learn it both ways.

"Hold these for me, will you?" He innocently asked and put his glasses on you, quite lower so you could stare over the round frames. Before you could say anything else, he was on his knees in the dewy grass, both of his hands sliding up your bare legs. His lips gently leaving kisses on your hips as he dragged your panties down your legs. You couldn't look away from him. His soft lips moving from one hip, across your stomach to the other side. His fingers running between your folds, time to time coming up to circle your clit and then tease your entrance by dipping in a fingertip.

"Mark me..." you breathed out as one of your hands slid to his hair.

"That will hurt." He looked up at you.

"You won't hurt me. I trust you, Al..." You said through a moan.

"...where...?" He quietly inquired.

God, please, everywhere.

"Here..." you gently tapped your hip. Alastor smiled, leaned closer, pressed his lips to the top of your hand and then gently bit your fingertip.

"This shall mean you're mine, my love, I hope you are preparing for the consequences that it ensues." He said against your skin as you pulled your hand away.

"I was yours as soon as our eyes locked when I saw you riding horses with the hunters all those years ago..." You moaned as his fingers circled your clit, as if he was encouraging you to finish your though. Next second, you felt his teeth sink into your skin and his middle finger plunging into you.

"Alastor! Ah.." both of your hands flew to his hair, as your hips jerked against his hand.

"Shhh.." Alastor smiled against the blooming love bite. His eyes then locked on how you were taking his finger.

"Good girl." His smiled and looked up at you. His other hand joining to circle your clit.

"Oh Lord..." You moaned. He playfully rolled his eyes at you and leaned his temple against your hip.

"Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well." He praised, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He twisted his finger and you let out a high pitch keen.

"Look at me." He straighted a little. Your eyes locked with his. Opening his mouth, he stuck his tongue out. Your eyes grew big, and a flash of warmth traveled down from your chest to your legs. Your pussy involuntary clamping down on his finger. And then his mouth was on you. As soon as his tongue got the first taste of you, his eyes fell shut and he moaned against you, sending vibrations straight through you.

"Ahh...ha...." You moaned loudly, both hands moving to his hair and pulling it. He lapped at your pussy as if he was a starving man. He sucked on your clit and then you felt a second finger stretching you open.

"Please.... Just don't stop..." You moaned, your hips jerking against his mouth. His fingers picked up the speed and your breathing did the same.

"I think I'm going to..." Your hold on his hair grew tighter and you were starting to push his mouth harder against your weeping cunt. Alastor grunted, his hand that was constantly squeezing your ass traveled down to his crotch and palmed himself. His pants growing too tight.

Alastor curled his fingers forward and sucked hard on your clit. With a loud cry you came on his fingers and tongue. You yourself could never reach such intense peak. Your toes curled, your knees almost wishing to pull together. You pressed Alastor's head closer to your dripping core, at the moment careless if he could breathe or not.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckkk..." Your eyes rolled back into your skull. For a moment you felt weightless, your hands falling away from his hair, to hold onto to the fence beams that you were leaning against.

Flatly dragging his tongue from your twitching hole up your slit to the clit, he placed chaste kiss on your mound. Alastor leaned back and looked up at you.

When you had gathered at least some wits about you, you looked down at him. His chin and lips were glistening from your cum.

"You taste sweet." He gave you a wink and licked his lips.

"Alastor..." You whispered his name and in swift motion crossed your hands and pulled the dress over your head. Leaving it hanging by the knife. Alastor was caught off guard and sat back, his hands slowly starting to unbutton his vest and then his shirt.

Was Alastor intending to fuck you against the fence or where you intending to ride him in the dewy grass?

In two quick steps you were in front of him and straddling his hips. Your lips immediately seeking out his and hands helping him to unbutton his shirt faster. With a groan he pulled away and grabbing your hand dragged it down his chest to the front of his pants. Unzipping his pants you dipped your hand in his boxers.

"Fuck..." He moaned, his eyes rolling back. You wrapped your hand around his cock and gently freed him from the confines of his pants.

"How is that going to fit...?" You blurted out when you looked down at him and gave him two long strokes.

"... perfectly..." He hissed through his teeth and threw his head back when your thumb swiped across his dripping tip. You switched your hands, and raised now free hand up to your face. Alastor looked at you through lidded eyes. Gently you licked your finger, tasting him on your skin. Seeing you do that, Alastor's hips jerked up into your fist and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Lover." He gritted through clenched teeth. His hands coming to hold your hips. You only smiled at your ability to drive him as insane and he was driving you. You slid your hand down to his base and gently squeezed.

"Cheeky little thing..." Alastor opened his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss by your neck. It was slow but messy. Tongues twisting, saliva smearing against both of your lips.

You got up on your knees and wrapped your hands around Alastor's neck. However, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock alongside his own.

"Now, now." He smiled against your lips. "You gotta learn how to take it. Put. It. In." Alastor whispered absolute filth against your lips and moved your hand so that his cock dragged through your soaked folds.

With a shaky breath you dragged his cock through your folds once more. Pausing on your clit and moaning against Alastor's lips.

"Yes... Take your pleasure..." He whispered.

Then moving his cock down, you pushed it's tip against your entrance. And then with a hissfrom your mouth, your hips were flush with his. The unknown feeling between your legs made you bite Alastor's lip. He groaned in your mouth, but didn't pull away if both of you felt the tangy taste of blood.

Alastor was patient with you, and let you decide when and how to move. But once your hips started to twitch against his, Alastor ground hips up into yours. His warm hands moved up to your back and shoulder blades to pull you closer. Your own hands tangled themselves in his dark hair and scratched down his back. By now your moans were echoing the same as the hounds of the hunters.

"Harder.. Al... Please..." You moaned against his cheek, as your hips moved up and down. Your desperate cunt twitching around his cock and making Alastor moan in your ear.

Next moment you were on your back, your legs on his shoulders as he leaned over you. Your eyes locked with his. Both of you as mirrored image to each other. Hair disheveled, foreheads sweaty, short rapid breaths. And then he was fucking you as if this is the last night out here with stars. As if the coming morning you won't stop by the coffee shop where he gets his morning dose of caffeine.

The way his cock so deliciously dragged against your walls - you had nothing in this world to compare it to. Leaking tip of his cock was carving your cunt out with every push back in, and each drag of it made you clench around him. As if to say, that you need him back in and not let him pull out.

You grabbed Alastor's cheeks:

"I'm in love with you...." He said first, as if he had read your thoughts on what you were about to say.

"I love you." You smiled back and pulled him in for a kiss that was broken by your moan as Alastor gave harsh thrust, hitting your cervix. Making you lose your breath momentarily.

"More.. please..." You begged, your cunt twitching around him.

"Fuck..." Alastor moaned, his hips taking on harsher and faster movements. You could swear that you felt him in your guts. Your hand traveled down your stomach and pressed on the outline of his cock. He smirked at you, as if saying that no other cock will ever be this deep, no one ever will pleasure you the same way.

"You're mine..." He groaned. Letting your legs off his shoulders, he pulled your lower lip with his thumb until your mouth opened and he could slide his finger in. Your tongue latched around his digit and sucked hard, making him stutter in his movements as he wondered how to use that mouth of yours in other ways.

With press on your tongue, your mouth opened once more, Alastor pulled his finger out and dived in to kiss you. Your tongues meeting before your lips could. You moaned in his eager mouth as his wet thumb now circled your clit. Your hips raising to meet his thrusts. When your wandering hands were enough for him, he grabbed them and pinned both of them above your head.

"Keep them there..." He said breathlessly and leaned back lifting your hips with his.

He was fucking you like drowning animal would fight for air. And the pleasure was rapidly pulling both of you under. The way your cunt clenched around him more and more frequently, was a sign that you were close. As if not being able to stand not touching him, your hand raised to rest on his stomach, feeling the lean muscles flexing there.

Not wanting to soil you on your first sexual encounter, Alastor was ready to pull out when your legs wrapping around his hips locked him in place. Sliding his hands up your legs and then sides, he leaned over you.

Your orgasm approached you unknowingly, as such intense feeling you have never felt before.

"I got you. Just let go." Alastor said against your chest as his forehead rested against your collarbone. With a moan that stole all your breath - you came. Alastor's name tumbling out of your lips like the sweetest honey. Your body arched off the ground and pressed against Alastor. Not knowing what to do with your hands as all nerve ends felt like going haywire, you opt to grab Alastor's hips and, as if your legs being locked around him wasn't enough, you pulled him against you.

Corrupting such sweet doe as yourself felt so rewarding. He could almost feel your orgasm on his tongue. Perhaps that was just taste of your cunt that kept lingering on his tongue. His own hips stuttered and with deep groan he came deep inside you, his teeth latching on the side of your left breast, leaving another love bite to remind you of this night of debaucheries.

For a moment neither of you moved. Still ongoing gunfires of hunters and howls of hounds could be heard echoing, meaning that hunt was still on. And you could return home without your father seeing you here.

Alastor wrapped one hand around your back and gently laid you back on ground.

"I must beg your pardon. A lady such as yourself ought never to be deflowered in such a place for the first time." He said quietly against your soft breasts that were still raising and falling in short breaths.

"Oh, hush. I enjoyed myself very much so." You took a deep breath trying to steady your breathing. Alastor looked at you and you smiled at him. Gently running your hands through his hair in order to tame it.

Steadying himself on his hands, Alastor pulled out and couldn't help but to stare at your cunt that was already leaking his cum. Catching him staring, ought to teas him a little bit. Bending your legs you spread them open. Gaining Alastor's attention, you trailed one hand down your body and dipped your fingertips in your folds. Shyly looking to the side you spread your folds, making more cum leak out. Alastor was watching your hand like it was a prey.

"Darling-" Alastor warned as his lashes fluttered. He leaned to kiss your knee instead. Fighting so hard not to take your overstimulated body the second time.

"We should talk in the morning." Alastor got up with a sigh, tucked himself away and walked over to the fence to retrieve your dress.

You quietly got dressed, not questioning anything. You weren't sure what we're you to say in such moment. While you were getting dressed you couldn't help but stare as Alastor was putting on his shirt. His skin on the back scratched by your nails. Or how the fingers you had cut had smeared blood all over his body.

"Shall I escort you home?" Alastor turned to you.

"No. It's late, we both should be getting home and to bed. And besides, I know this field like back of my hand." You shook your head.

"Alright." Alastor tilted his head to the side and smiled. He walked up to you and gently took off his glasses from you.

"Not a scratch. Good girl." He praised you, leaning down to your eye level. Your cheeks immediately flushed red and you quickly pressed your lips against his.

As he watched you walk back home, you couldn't help the smile that was on your lips. The faithful butter knife clutched carefully in your hands, will be neatly stored in your vanity as a reminder.

Meanwhile Alastor was sitting on the fence, watching you walk away, with skip in your step. Once you were far enough, he hauled himself over the fance, back on the road. What you had not seen at the very beginning, was that Alastor had come with knive of his own. Quite menacing butcher knife, that he had wedged in the nearby tree.

You were almost home. You had just ducked through the fence and walked quietly across the yard when, one, so much differently sounding gunshot, made you turn back around and stare at the field where you had come from....

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Part 2?

[mediumgayitalian]

“What are your parameters for loving me?”

Careful to keep her head locked forward, Naomi glances over at her son. Will’s picked-bloody fingernails scrabble at the worn bandage around his wrist, twisting until his knuckles turn white. The car shakes with his violently bouncing leg, out of time with the shuddering engine and rumbling dust roads under the wheels.

“There aren’t any.”

“There have to be — some.” The bandage is longer than she thought, unspooled in his lap. He winds it back up again quickly, hands blurring; darting around his wrist, tapping on his knees, flexing and locking, flexing and locking. “I mean, what if I became a misogynist?”

She snorts. “I think you’re good, honey.”

“No, Mom, what if? Think about it for real. You’d stop loving me, right?”

“I might knock you around a bit, but it’d pretty hard to stop loving you completely,” she teases. She pinches the stubbornly-clinging baby fat of his cheeks between her knuckles, ruffling his hair when he ducks away.

“Seriously, Mama.”

“I dunno, Will. I’d send you to work for your Auntie Di for a while, probably. Reckon she’d straighten you out good.”

“Okay.” He nods, twice to himself, chewing on his lip. The bandage is wrapped around his elbow, now, pulled tight enough that she can hear the groan of his joints. “Okay. What if I killed someone?”

“Be a pretty hefty secret for the two of us.”

“An innocent person. Cold blood, just because I wanted to.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I could, Mom. People are — unpredictable.” He picks at a hole in his shorts until it’s wide enough to slide three fingers through, pulling the bandage in after them. It looks yellowed next to the green of the fabric, worn. “Sometimes you think you know someone but you don’t.”

“I know you.”

She pushes on her turn signal, slowing to a near stop. Will’s twitching fingers unconsciously synch up, cri-tap, cri-tap, cri-tap. The rusted rims groan as her tires amble around the bend, quieting as she lurches forward. They both duck as she hits a pothole, narrowly avoiding the warped ceiling.

“Cold blood, Mama.”

“I’d — it would scare me, I guess.” The next few potholes are smaller — she can avoid them with some manoeuvring. A mouse darts out onto the road, rushing out from the surrounding cornfields, and she slams on the break, thrusting her arm out to the passenger side. Will’s hands come to cup over her forearm as he slams into it, grunting softly. The mouse sprints across the rest of the road, tail swishing behind it, disappearing into the stalks. She settles back into her seat, brushing across Will’s seatbelt as she does, and presses the gas again. “More for you than of you. For what would happen if someone came knocking.”

“You wouldn’t report it?”

“No I wouldn’t report it, Will, Jesus.”

“But I — but I did something evil.”

“This is a hypothetical, baby.”

“And in the hypothetical. You’re —” He scrubs his hand down his face, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re a good person. You have — morals.”

“I’m a person, Will.” The GPS beeps at her — twenty-five miles to the Tennessee border. “And I’m a mother before that.”

“So if I — you would just — just like that? You’d — forgive me?”

“I’d love you,” she corrects.

“But you wouldn’t forgive me.”

She shrugs. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“So how do you know you’d still love me?”

“Because there’s nothing you could do, baby. I mean it.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even if I was a bully? Or a landlord? Or if I — liked boys?”

He says it quickly, or tries to, but he stumbles over his words, tripping over the syllables. Naomi sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it hard.

“You would still love me, if I — if I —”

Keeping her movements steady, she removes her boot from the gas. Will glances, fast, at her tightening knuckles on the steering wheel, looking quickly away. She guides the car to the shoulder of the road, pulling into park, and kills the engine, unclipping her seatbelt and turning ninety degrees to face her son. Will crowds into the corner of the seat, hunching in on himself, shoulders tense and curling, hair failing over her lowered head.

“Oh, Will.”

His body shakes as she pulls him into her, hands trembling so bad they spasm, twitching out of the fists he makes. She shifts until both of her arms wrap tightly around her torso, ignoring the burn of the trench, tucking his forehead into her collarbone, dropping her lips to press against his temples, his cheeks, the crown of his head.

“It’s okay, baby.”

“It’s — not. I’m still, I can still —”

“Sh.” His tears drip onto her shirt, her skin. He chokes back a sob and she tightens, reflexively, pulling his whole body even closer to her, somehow, making space for his too-long legs, knees hitting his chest, feet dangling off the seat, gearshift shoved into his thigh. His chest heaves with the effort of keeping his cries locked up in his throat, hidden behind clenched teeth, squeezed shut eyes. His fingers cling onto her shirt, twisting the fabric so hard it warps. Her own fingers clutch desperately at the ridges of his spine, the inside of his elbow; squeezing, holding, bruising. His voice is rough as raw grit and reedy as pond scum, barely above a whisper.

“I like boys, Mama.”

“I heard you.” She rests her forehead on his shoulder, her own breaths shuddering. “I heard you, sweetheart.”

“I like — a boy.”

“Okay.”

“For a long time.”

Her swallow constricts her throat, shoving the air back in her lungs. How long, she cannot bring herself to ask — when was it, exactly, that he decided he could not trust her with this? When did she lose that privilege? Was it when he started protecting her from the pain in his life, or before? When he lost everyone close to him at once, or when he broke down and told her about it? When was she no longer the person he ran to when he was scared, nervous, afraid?

He used to come to her for everything.

“I love you,” she whispers, voice wet as it slides against the lump in her throat. She squeezes him again, and this time, he squeezes back, pressing his face into her skin. “Will Solace, you are what keeps me going, do you understand that? Come up here, baby, look at me.”

His eyes aren’t hers. He takes after his father, really; after his older brother once upon a time. But he speaks like she does and smiles like she does and stands like she does, and when he cries he gets that same look, like the ocean has emptied itself inside of him. She cradles both palms to his wet cheeks, thumbs pressing under his eyes, kissing his forehead, his cheekbones, wiping the tears away.

“Fifteen years long you’ve been the light of my life. I need you to understand that, Will. I have never loved anything like I love you and there will never be anyone who comes even close. There is no hypothetical, no situation, no anything that could change that. There are no parameters. None. You understand me?”

“Everything stops,” he croaks. “Everything has a limit.”

“Not me,” she says firmly. “You ain’t a baby no more, baby, but you’re gonna have to pretend for a moment that I know everything again. I am telling you that there is no boundary. And I am not giving you the option to disagree. You are my son and my sun and that’s final, Will. That’s final.”

His face crumples. She pulls him close again, sighing, letting him curl up in his lap like he’s ten years younger than he should be, instead of the ten years older he acts. She runs a hand through his knotted hair and another down his back and presses her lips to his temples, holding him every place she can reach, and rocks them, even though there’s no room to do it, humming slow and low under her breath.

“We’ll get there,” she promises, tapping a beat on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Okay?”

He nods into her neck. “Okay.” His voice is small but not cowering, thankfully; small like he’s hiding in her instead of from her. She fights the urge to sag into him, to burst into tears of her own.

“I love you, Will. No matter what and forever.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

[theundercoversquid]

Haircuts and Fans

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x author!Reader 

may I ask for a fic where the author reader has a haircut with charles where pascale goes to the barber shop and charles stubbornly wants to help his mother? maybe the customers inside know the reader.

Warnings: 

Masterlist

A writer and formula one driver masterlist

"Please can I help, please, please, please?" Charels pleaded. His lips pouty as he hit you and his mum with the puppy dog eyes. "Please."

"Fine." You exclaimed, throwing your arms up. "One cut, one small little cut under your mum's supervision." You had held up one finger, pointing it at him. "But if you do anything to mess it up, I will kill you."

"Of course, I won't mess it up," Charles exclaims. Sounding offended that you would think such a thing.

But you just stare at him sceptically.

The two of you are broken out of your staring match by the sound of his mum laughing from where she is standing next to the pair of you.

"Don't worry, mon ange." She assured you. Placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. I will make sure he doesn't do anything wrong.

"Maman," Charles whined as you and his mum shared a teasing look.

The two of you just continued to laugh at him. Much to his displeasure if the pout was anything to go on.

But rather than continue teasing the poor thing, the two of you headed for one of the nearby chairs. 

Sitting you down, Pascal and you talked over what you were thinking for your hair, what sort of style you were thinking, and if you had any inspiration, that sort of thing.

Charles, however, just stood off to the side, nodding knowingly, though you and Pascal both knew that he had no clue what was going on.

But you didn't need to let him know that you both knew.

When you and Mama Leclerc had finished coming up with what you wanted, she stood you up and set about washing your hair.

Charles followed obediently behind the both of you. 

He even offered to massage your head for a bit. An offer you were never going to say no to.

When it came time for the actual hair cut, you and the pair of Leclercs moved back over to your chair where you had previously even sat. 

Sitting you down, Pascal set about sectioning strands of your hair and working out where to start and what to do.

When she had started, she showed Charles what she was doing, demonstrating the movements over and over for him, making sure that he understood what she was trying to explain.

When she was sure that he understood, she finally handed over the scissors and comb.

"Are you sure you want to do this, ma Cherie," Pascal asked you softly. Her eyes meeting yours through the mirror.

"I am." You nodded. "I trust him."

You could see Charles's cheeks took on a slight red tint at your words. As he ducked his head down. Pretending to focus on your hair as he lined the scissors up.

"Like this mama?" he questions his mum softly.

You could see the concentration on his face. A level of concentration that he usually reserved for F1.

"Exactly like that." Pascal coached him.

All three of you watched as he finally squeezed the scissors, hearing them cut through your hair and watching it fall to the ground.

Charles smiled proud of himself before promptly handing the scissors back to his mum.

You and Pascal smiled at him before Pascael returned to her job. The two of you nattered away as Charles drifted off. His attention already flitting off to something else.

When your haircut was all done, and your hair was dry, you showed Charles your new look.

Charles cooed at you. Grabbing your hand as he got you to do a spin. Complimenting you on how stunning you looked and telling his mum what a good job she had done.

Smiling fondly at him, you let him pull you in for a quick pec. Not minding that his mother was standing right next to you.

Just as you were turning to leave, you heard a timid call of your name. Spinning, you were met with the woman who had been sitting in the chair next to you.

Smiling at her, you wonder what she was going to say next.

"I just wanted to say I'm a massive fan." The woman told you shyley as you smiled encouraging at her. "I love your books."

"Oh, thats so lovely to hear." You beamed at her. It was always so lovely to hear that people liked your books. Not in an arrogant way. It was just always so lovely to hear that you had connected with people.

"I just wanted to say I can definitely see your boyfriend in some of your characters." At that, you could feel as some blood rushed to your checks. Laughing at her statement.

"He has definitely done a lot of good for me and my inspiration." You told the women.

"But yeah, I just wanted to say I am a massive fan and can't wait till your next book." The woman hurried to finish telling you. Her head ducked down at the end of the sentence.

"Well, it was so lovely to meet you as well," you beamed at the lady before finally heading out of the hairdressers, where you could see Charles looking at you with a fond smile.

"Look at you being the popular one of the two of us." He teases. Grabbing your hand as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"Oh, stop it, you," you tease him back, gently watching him in the chest. "We both know you are by fair the more famous one."

"Nuh-uh." Charles refutes childishly as you just laugh at him.

Laughing at your boyfriend, you gently lead him off as you both head home.

"So she can see me in your character, huh," Charles comments, teasing a moment later.

"Oh you are insufrable!" You laugh. Waking him on the chest again as he just laughed at you.

And maybe he was the inspiration for some of your characters. But if you weaved your soul into the books that you wrote, then you would be damned if you didn't weave some of his soul in right alongside. Your souls were so intertwined now that you don't think you could ever separate them.

[heavndoll]

thinking about jj maybank giving you your first ever stick ‘n poke 🤍

jj had been begging you to let him put something on your skin; you had been reluctant due to your strict parents who would tear off the tattoo themselves if they saw it.

“i won’t put it on a place they’d see it!” jj would beg, and you would just glare at him, rolling your eyes. “it’ll be a small lil’ thing on your ass or something. they won’t see your ass.”

“unless when i’m wearing my swimsuit, j,” you retorted, and he sighed, groaning.

you and jj went back and forth about it for about two weeks until you finally gave in under the exception that he made the design small as possible.

he thought placing the tattoo on your hipbone was the best idea, doing the work on the chateau’s small kitchen table. everything about the whole ordeal was unsanitary and unsafe in every aspect; his needle was a sewing thread needle that was taped to a pencil so he had control of movements and dotting, and you didn’t even want to ask if the ink was actual tattoo ink.

“breathe, mama,” he cooed as the needle methodically pierced into your skin, practically puncturing your bone. you squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling and exhaling sharply. “you’re doing s’good. almost over, ‘kay?”

“if you keep speaking to me like that, i’m going to let you take me on this kitchen table,” you groaned, the needle feeling deeper than you anticipated. “you’re such an asshole for this.”

“you like every other pain but this?” jj joked, and you hit his bicep. “you’re gonna fuck up the art piece!”

the worst part of the tattooing is jj saying he wasn’t going to tell you what he was designing on your skin, just for you to trust him.

silence reeled back in for a moment, and jj rested his free hand on your stomach, his thumb caressing it. “that’s my girl, let me just get this last part.”

minutes flew past, and jj tapped your thigh, signaling you were done. he helped you up, steadily getting you back on your feet, and smiled down at the tattoo on your hipbone. “i’m a genius! i should do this for a living!” he cheered, and you panicked, grabbing your phone out to use the camera as a mirror.

you angled the camera down to your hipbone, and saw a small, weird duck now permanently inked into your skin.

you glared at him, and his smile faded, his face growing pale. “jesse james albert maybank, i’m going to kill you!” you shouted, and he bolted out of the chateau, with you trailing not to far behind him.

the pogues watched as they barely arrived back, but on enough time to see you tackle your boyfriend to the ground.

[idv-sunsxin3]

Vincent Charbonneau // Random Dating HCs

{Dead Plate and characters belong to Studio Investigrave}

Note// I'll rather put this as GN! S/O, despite that he's canonly gay. Just so i can at least dream😒😔/ih. Also, the headcanons might include Vince being unhinged and obsessive, so you're now warned. Vincent may or may not cook... suspicious things for you.

•Having a bond with him where you both start dating happens after having this slowburn process(and after you managed to make him not kill you to turn you into food or something, lol)

•Once you become lovers, it's an automatic option that he would decide to cook for you. Giving you lunch and dinner during and after your shifts.

•He always offers to let you stay over for the night, and then insists for you to not leave too soon by bribing you with more food on the table---(if it's not enough, he'll make sure he'll give you money, service, and so much love---) At that point it almost looks like he wants you to move in(which he doesn't mind about that option either-- he'll be concerningly more than happy)

•For such a stoic face, he is pretty touch starved and attention seeking once he starts to experience intimacy with a lover for the first time in a long while-- but he'll only show it behind closed doors, since he has pride and a reputation to secure lol;;😒😔

•He hasn't played the cello for a long while, but he'll try and play a piece for a bit on a day-off if you ever ask.

•To the public eye, he looks like he hates you or at least looks like this friend of yours who seem to be grumpy all the time. But to you, you know his sharp words usually mean for good if they're addressed to you. He once firmly told you that he'll never be angry at you, but would probably scold you like a mama duck/lh

•If he learns that you get scared of horror content, he sometimes would make you watch horror movies with him at theaters just so he can feel you holding onto his arm tightly whenever you flinch -

•He loves the feeling of you depending on him, as if your life depends on you to do that---(ehhhh yeah, he'll still be unhinged as a bf ngl)

•He stalks you because you're always the main attraction to him. He'll never stop following you once he finds you interesting. Ever since before you even started dating even---

•If you bite him as a love language, it'll leave him shocked-- like, why did you do that??? Is he delicious??? Should he cook himself??? *gets bonked *

•Once you explain it to him clearly that it's a form of affection like hugging and kissing, he would start doing the same to you. Soft bites on the arm, on the cheek, on your shoulder, on your neck, on your ear.... it almost tempts him to bite harder--- but he would manage to restrain himself if you did warn him to not make you bleed.

•I feel like you should never act too friendly around your friends- especially if it's other men... unless you want to see remains of them on your dinner plate.

•He probably wouldn't be so jealous, more like if there's ever a second person outside of your family who you love the most, then he'll cook a dish out of them as an ingredient for you... to eat...

•I think he'll ever get pissed at someone if they do cross the line as they hit on you -

•Though, other half of myself think that the love between you and him is like that meme of "You're the most jealous man I've ever known" and then "You know other men?" Kind of thing./ih

•As much as he gets so excited and maybe turned on by the sight of you bleeding, too--- he surprisingly doesn't like to see you in a bitter expression...

•Besides cooking, he would give extravagant gifts with the ✨️best of the best✨️ quality possible. I imagine that he'll be the type to adorn your neck with many kinds of Jewel necklaces - even if you're not materialistic.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Master fic post-

The Drakes Spoiled Brat (im sorry dad.) WIP- 71k (13 chapters)

Summary- Tim Drake Centric, Tim dies as Red Robin only to wake up w/ the past 12 years of his life erased. Now he makes it his personal mission to help his family even when no longer one of them, helped by his various personas to navigate his quadruble life. But nothing stays secret forever and hiding in plain sight from the bats will only work for so long. Time is running out (in more way than one)

Mama Bird (but its your brother ready to fight god) WIP- 10.9k (5 chapters)

Summary- Tim Drake Centric, Tim just wants to get a case done but needs the Batcomputer. Its sheer circumctance hes in the cave when Robin and Batman finish patrol. But when Batman attacks Damian over a fear gas incident? Tim might push the lines of "no kill code" Followed by lots of core four + extended siblings comfort and coming to terms with bad dad bruce wayne.

Extra info-

As of right now all of this is about the Drakes Spoiled Brat since my other fic is BRAND new

Concept for "The Drakes Spoiled Brat" comes from a post by @brucewaynehater101 (whom I adore) linked here (I know nothing about their original inspo tho)

Asks/Bonus lore-

Tim Drakes Grave??

Memes pt 1

Memes pt 2

Firefighter Dick Grayson

Long hair tim??

"Im an only child now"

Founding of Mama bird

Tim vs Timothy headcanons

Rouge gallary

Fanart/Character art-

Gala scene- (Credit myself)

Family Guy Tim- (Credit also me)

Cafe concept art + Character info (me again)

Gay Panic Steph ( @ ihavenotsleptindays)

Steph + Alan panic ( @ yjcorefourenjoyer)

Cafe Staff art + Info (still me)

Fic inspired by mine!! (they dont have a tumblr)

Cafe staff renders!! CONSIDERED MOST CANON

Mama Bird Tim- "Bats dont kill" ( @ ihavenotsleptindays)

Steph Narration panel (- @ neclasy)

Faces of Tim renders (Credit- Me)

Timothy will sue ( @burglar-bird)

Damian- Threat Timothy- Proud ( @ yjcorefourenjoyer)

Badass Cardinal ( @r eader-from-another-dimension)

Cafe crew Pokemon form ( @ reader-from-another-dimension)

Trifecta Timmy ( @ reader-from-another-dimension)

Pie & Grandpa ( @ shrugsinchinese)

Long hair Timmy ( @ twoarrsandonesea)

Queen bee Tim ( @ reader-from-another-dimension)

Reflection ( @ arty-cosmo)

Painting (@ reader-from-another-dimension)

Wisp (@ twoarrsandonesea)

The Drakes (@ neclasy)

Whats missing? (@ arty-cosmo)

Nepo baby (@ nicecupofangst)

Pigeon Book (@ arty-cosmo)

BLENDER TIME!! (@ arty-cosmo)

Cardinal % his birbs (@ reader-from-another-dimension)

Cardinal & Birbo (@ joyliit)

Spooky Eyes Cardinal (@ primthegreat)

Snatched waist <33 (@ runningoncoffeandspite)

GWENNN!!! (@ mockingjaylad)

Cardinal & Wisp cuddles (@ arty-cosmo)

Sassy Cardinal (@ 1tabbymore)

Wisp & Cardinal piccy (@nicecupofangst)

Cardinal Doodle (@a-single-anonymous-duck)

Collage!! (@joyliit)

[reveluving]

the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader

summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!

a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!

'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;

Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” 

It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.

Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time. 

Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.

“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice. 

The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.

“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.

“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”

Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.

Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.

And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it. 

Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.

As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.

Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.

"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you." 

It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.

Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that. 

Not yet.

You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off. 

Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home. 

The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.

Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them. 

Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.

For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.

After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.

Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.” 

You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free. 

Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…

Oh, Irene.

She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it. 

The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger. 

You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.

You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.

Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.

“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.

“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.

“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.

“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”

You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”

“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.

“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.

“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”

“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.

“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.

“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.

“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”

“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement. 

“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.

“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.

“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”

You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead. 

“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them." 

It would do no good, but it was worth trying. 

"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”

He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”

You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room. 

You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene. 

“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket. 

“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”

Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out. 

“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them. 

He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.

"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys." 

They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?" 

"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.

"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.

"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile. 

"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing." 

"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy." 

That's all they ever wanted.

The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is. 

Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.

By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other. 

Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.

"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.

"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back." 

You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.

Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.

Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.

Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.

But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.

"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back. 

"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.

"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.

"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.

"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?" 

"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.

"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.

"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?" 

No reply.

"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.

“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out. 

“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings. 

“How big?” 

“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.

Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants. 

No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it. 

He just had to play it safe. 

He slowly broke into a sinister smile.

“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: ahh hubby rick &lt;3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[nataliasquote]

Double the trouble [pt. 5] | n romanoff

Double the trouble au

Summary: Y/n faces some difficult feelings, whilst Isla decides to take matters into her own hands, making decisions that could fall flat on their face

Warnings: none, major fluff

Pairings: WandaNat, Maria Hill x reader

wc: 3.7k

- ⧗ -

"So did you kiss her?" Clint asked, spinning a pair of drumsticks around his fingers as he eagerly awaited an answer. But Maria just wrinkled her nose at him, disgusted.

"She's my best friend, idiot. Don't paint us like that."

Clint shrugged. "I'm just saying, she's single now, so you can shoot your shot. It's been what, 5 years? At this point you're going to be waiting your entire life to get the girl you want."

If looks could kill, Clint would be in the ground. Maria hated that he was right, but she didn't want to ruin the friendship she treasured so much. Y/n was her closest friend, the one she told everything to. They'd been inseparable since middle school and Maria didn't know what she'd do without her.

That night on the couch was purely to comfort Y/n. It didn't mean anything else. They always hugged, Y/n was a touchy person, and Maria just wanted to be there for her. But she would be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her that wanted to hold the redhead tight and never let her go.

But Y/n was vulnerable and had made it pretty clear she wasn't going to be dating anytime soon. Bucky may not be on her mind as much, but she still had scars that hadn't quite healed.

"I'm not going to ruin our friendship Clint, and that's final. And if you say anything to her, I will not hesitate to chop your dick off." Her cold glare told him she meant it. And who was he to mess with her?

But as the weeks trickled by and everyone started excitedly chatting about the upcoming winter formal, Maria couldn't help but daydream. She'd stumble over her own feet to ask Y/n to the dance as her date, feeling on top of the world with the redhead on her arm. But Y/n would probably find a date by herself, because best friends just didn't go together.

"You've got your thinking face on again," Y/n noted, stealing a chip from the open packet on the table. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about finals, that's all."

Y/n hummed and crossed her ankles over. Her legs were draped across Maria's lap as they lounged on the couch, a random chick flick playing in the background on the large living room tv. "What about the winter formal? Any cute girls catching your attention?"

Maria took her opportunity to busy herself with her drink, taking extra long sips to buy herself some time. "Nope. Not really." Little liar. Well, kind of. Because Y/n was so much more than just a 'cute girl'.

"I would have thought you'd have been asked by now," Y/n said after fiddling with her phone for a little bit. "Wait, did I ever show you my dress? I bought it with Mama the other week and it's perfect." She held up her phone up to show her best friend and Maria's heart skipped a beat.

It was only a generic image from google, but the brunette couldn't help but let her imagination run wild at the thought of Y/n wearing it. The emerald green satin was simple but effective, and the thigh high slit in the side set her heart racing. There was no doubt in her mind that Y/n would look like a goddess wearing it and her heart clenched. Someone was going to be really lucky to have her.

"You'll look beautiful," Maria said softly, her eyes flicking up to look at Y/n over the top of the phone. "Your date will be pinching themselves."

Y/n blushed, ducking behind her hair as it swung forward over her shoulder. "At this rate I'll be going alone. But I don't care. I'm more excited about the dress." Y/n knew exactly who she wanted to take her to the dance, but asking her was too much of a risk. Maria had her eyes on other girls for sure.

Maria left after the movie ended to get home to her mom, leaving Y/n on the couch. Isla was out on a date with Valkyrie so there was not much else for Y/n to do. She wandered into her moms' room where Natasha was reading a book, glasses halfway down her nose.

"Mama?" She knocked on the door even thought it was open because Natasha was known to be jumpy. But the older redhead just looked up and smiled, placing her book closed by her side.

"Hey malyshka, is everything ok?" She noticed Y/n's hesitant body language and patted the space beside her on the large kingside bed. "Has Maria gone home?"

Y/n nodded as she climbed up, settling under Natasha's arm and cuddling into her side. "How did you know you liked girls?" She blurted out, screwing her eyes shut. There was supposed to be a build up but clearly her brain was more eager to learn.

Natasha's brows shot up in surprise and she was glad Y/n couldn't see the smile she was suppressing. "What makes you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Well, the very first time I saw your mom in the meeting room back at the agency, I couldn't get out of my head. I hadn't thought about my sexuality much beforehand, but she just made everything make sense."

Natasha and Wanda never really spoke much about their time working for the government. They just referred to it as 'The Agency' days, never once disclosing the true name of the organisation. But both Y/n and Isla knew their moms had been spies in their youth, so they never pushed them for more information. A dance studio owner and stay at home mom suited them a lot better in their opinion.

"So you didn't like anyone before you met Mom?"

"I suppose I had a boyfriend at some point, but it never really felt right. Sort of like a means to an end, in a way."

"But then with mom it felt different?"

Natasha loved how soft Y/n was being. She was the more gentle one out of the two, but rarely did she open up about topics quite like this. It made Natasha hold her that little bit tighter.

"I couldn't imagine a life without her," Natasha admitted, getting lost in memories in her mind. Barely twenty five years old and completely head over heels for a gorgeous auburn haired woman with mind reading abilities. "She was the reason I kept going."

"How did you tell her how you felt?" Her moms' love story was everything she aspired to have in life. Even twenty years later they still were just as in love with each other as they were when they were younger. "What if she didn't even like girls?"

Natasha let out a laugh. "Trust me, sweetheart, there was no way your mom was into guys. And there was also no way I was going to let her get away without at least telling her how I felt."

"You make it sound so easy," Y/n grumbled, slumping down into the mattress. She was beginning to hate relationships. Why did they require so much brain power? She wanted everything to just pan out the way she wanted, but unfortunately that required a lot of effort.

"May I ask where this is coming from?" Natasha could take an accurate guess, but she wanted to hear it straight from Y/n before she concluded anything.

"Nothing, I just-"

Natasha gently gave her daughter a nudge. "Y/n, you don't have to hide anything from me. I'm your Mama, I thought we had no secrets?" Natasha was not pushing her to come out in any way, but she also didn't like seeing her youngest so troubled. If it was something they could sort out together, then she would rather know.

But Y/n just mumbled something and buried her face in her mother's side, slipping down the bed away from her sitting position. Natasha shook her head at her antics and gently stroked her back, just like she did when her girls were little.

"If you actually spoke so I could understand, that would help," she teased. "Preferably English, but if Russian or Sokovian is what you prefer then I'll allow that too."

Y/n untucked her head and lightly glared at her mother who just raised her eyebrows, still waiting for her response. There was no getting out of this one now.

"I just don't know what to do. Every time I see her I feel all bubbly inside and everything she does is just so perfect but she's my best friend and I can't risk messing this up because I don't want to lose her and-"

"Ok, ok, and breathe." Y/n's words flowed out like word vomit and Natasha thought her daughter might pass out before she managed to finish her sentence. "Now, who is this about?"

"Maria," the young redhead mumbled barely above a whisper. "I'm being stupid, I know."

"You're not stupid baby, not at all." Y/n still wasn't convinced. But her head was tucked so tightly against Natasha that she didn't hear Wanda enter the room. The Sokovian paused at the door, a pile of folded laundry tucked under her arm as she processed the scene in front of her. Natasha brought her finger to her lips and shook her head and Wanda nodded, shifting her weight to lean against the doorframe.

"I am stupid because she's going to hate me and never be friends with me again because falling for your best friend is the dumbest thing I could do and she doesn't even feel the same way and I-"

"Malyshka you're going to work yourself up into a panic attack if you don't slow down and breathe." Natasha could feel Y/n's stress radiating through her as she dragged her fingertips up her daughter's spine gently. Wanda's brows furrowed as she watched, her heart aching for her youngest.

"I just don't want to mess it up Mama." Y/n finally brought her head up and looked at Natasha, her eyes glossy with tears. "She's my best friend."

"You know, Nat was my best friend before we got together,” Wanda finally made her presence known, much to her daughter’s surprise. “Almost as close as you and Maria are now.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed, looking at Natasha and then back to Wanda. “How did you know who I was talking about?”

“Mothers know everything.” She gracefully moved over to the dresser and placed the clothes in their rightful places. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance with these things. But don’t rush it or force it, if it wants to happen, it will. But what I do know is that Maria cares for you an awful lot, so I don’t think you have much to worry about.”

Wanda wasn’t wrong. Maria looked at Y/n as though she hung the stars in the sky. She’d do anything for that special redhead, including supporting her from afar when she decided to date someone else. Maria thought the world of her best friend, but Y/n had been too blind to see it.

Google wasn’t nearly as helpful as her moms had been, yet somehow Y/n found herself scrolling through article after article of different advice forums telling you what to do if you have a crush on your best friends. Probably not the best use of her time at 2am on a sunday morning, especially when the horror stories vastly outweighed the positive ones. She finally fell asleep far more anxious than she was before.

A zombie was probably the most accurate description of Y/n’s state when she finally emerged from her room several hours later. She stared into space across the breakfast table, lazily dipping her croissant into her jam and chewed similarly to that of a camel. Isla eyed her sister warily, looking over at Natasha for help. But Natasha only shook her head, telling her to leave her be.

But what was Isla if not nosy? She basically skipped along the hallway to her sister’s room sometime after lunch, letting herself and heading straight for the bed. Y/n barely had time to protest before she felt her mattress dip beside her and she tugged off her headphones with a scowl.

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Nope!” Isla said with a smirk. “What’s the secret?”

Y/n pressed pause on her youtube video. “What secret?”

“The secret everyone else knows but me. I’m not leaving until you tell me.” To prove her point, Isla crossed her ankles and tucked her hands behind her head, leaning back on the neatly arranged pillows at the top of the bed. “I’m comfy so I can wait as long as you need.”

“There is no secret, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A moment of silence hung between the girls and Isla studied the ceiling, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling catching her attention. They’d lasted for years, except for the occasional one that would fall off in the middle of the night and hit Y/n in the face.

“So then it’s nothing to do with you and Maria pining over each other but neither of you actually doing anything about it?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide and she turned over her shoulder, jaw dropping on shock. “What did you just say?”

“Are you seriously that blind? I thought I was the only one who needed glasses. Clearly not.” Isla opened her eyes and looked at her sister, stifling a laugh as she caught sight of her face. “You didn’t know, did you?”

“What? I don’t-“

“Then my work here is done.” Isla scrambled off the bed and ran down the stairs, trying to escape her sister who yelled after her, hot on her heels. “Mom save me!” She cried, sliding across the kitchen tiles in her socks, grabbing onto a chair so she didn’t slip over. Wanda froze with her hands in the air, taken completely by surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Isla Marie, get back here!” Y/n yelled, appearing on the other side of the table as her sister. Wanda and Natasha were caught slap bang in the middle of this stand off, looking up from their computers as Y/n narrowed her eyes at her twin sister who was grinning her head off.

Western music should have started playing, but instead the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, breaking Y/n out of her trance.

“I think you should get it,” Isla said with a knowing look in her eye. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Wanda who just shrugged, just as clueless. “Go on.”

Y/n glared at her but turned around all the same, wandering to the front door. Isla kept her distance but followed, loitering in the hallway behind her. A package delivery? Or a neighbour? They rarely had visitors on a Sunday.

But the figure at the door was less like their usual UPS delivery guy and more like the slightly form of Maria Hill. She smiled softly as Y/n opened the door, her head just peaking up over a large bouquet of red and white flowers.

The redhead froze with her hand on the door, eyes almost bulging out of her head. Her mind was filled with nothing but static, all words tumbling from grasp. Isla stood behind her with her arms folded as she leaned against the wall, a cocky smirk on her face. Sister of the year award sure went to her alright.

Wanda and Natasha had come to investigate the mystery visitor but were stopped by Isla’s arm. The three redheads watched from afar, Wanda pouting from how adorable the scene before them was.

“Hi,” Maria started, breaking the slightly awkward silence as she shifted the flowers in her arm. “You look really pretty.”

Y/n’s outfit was nothing spectacular; it was sunday after all. She’d just opted for some loose cream lounge pants and a dark green crop top, but the winter sun had caught her hair and eyes, making the vibrant red and green pop even more. But Y/n could wear a trash bag and Maria would still think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Thank you,” Y/n was slightly hesitant fuelled by her utter confusion. What was happening? “You do too.”

“Y/n, look,” Maria began, suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to get everything off her chest. “I can’t wait around anymore. I don’t know how else to say this except saying it outright, but I like you. I really like you. And not just in a ‘you’re my best friend’ way, but in a way I can’t even describe. I adore everything that you do, the way you never fail to make other people laugh and the way your heart is so kind and caring to those around you. I love the way you listen so intently and remember the smallest details. The way you never fail to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world whenever we are together.”

Y/n was stunned at the words falling from her best friend’s lips. She was so overwhelmed that she didn’t notice the tears building up in her eyes as she listened, her lip trembling slightly. It was like a weight lifted off her chest, the stress of yesterday washing away with every word that Maria spoke.

“Clint made me realise that I can’t spend another day hiding the way I feel about you. I’m scared about losing what we have, but to me you’re worth taking that risk. I lost you to Bucky, and now I have you back I’ve realised I don’t ever want to lose you again. So please Y/n, will you be my date to the formal, and beyond that?”

Maria was slightly breathless as she finished her speech, her brain only just catching up with what she’d said. She poured her heart out, unable to stick to the mental script she’d planned in the car on the way over. Just looking at Y/n made her mind freeze over and she felt how shaky her legs suddenly felt.

“Maria,” Y/n started, so overcome with emotion that the tears had started to roll down her cheeks. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” The brunette let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and pushed the bouquet into Y/n’s arms with a relieved smile. “I was really scared.”

“Of what?”

“That you didn’t feel the same way I did. But now I know you do, and-“

Y/n was cut off by a pair of lips gently pressing themselves onto hers. It was a bold move, even Isla was taken by surprise, but Y/n quickly reciprocated before it ended. She was grinning like an idiot, yet still crying, her emotions all over the place.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Maria admitted and Y/n nodded, too choked up to speak but she so desperately wanted to agree. The young redhead had found herself dreaming about what it would be like to kiss her far too many times, but the real thing exceeded all of her expectations.

Y/n pulled her into a hug and held her tightly with her free arm, the other one holding her new favourite flowers out the way. She felt so relaxed, her body releasing all the tension of the past few weeks out in a single movement.

“Oh come on, I didn’t even get to do my trick!” A familiar voice whined as they hugged. Y/n let out a watery laugh as Maria gently wiped her tears and they turned around to see Clint with his bow and arrow beside a large covered up sign. “That’s not what we planned!”

“Sorry dude, my feelings got the better of me. But go ahead, why not.”

With a grumble, Clint stepped back and shot his arrow with perfect accuracy, watching as it sliced through the blank red paper and revealed the large, excessively glittery sign behind it. The paper didn’t split all the way so he scrambled over and quickly pulled the rest down, but the chaos just made Y/n laugh more. The lump in her throat didn’t subside but she welcomed the distraction.

“That was my initial way of asking you to the dance,” Maria admitted, gesturing to the large ‘Will You ‘Formal-ly Be My Girl’ sign now propped up on the front lawn. It was an adorable sign and Y/n nodded, even though she’d already agreed.

“Yes! Of course I will!” They both laughed and Maria pulled her in by the waist, careful not to crush the flowers as their lips met again. The sweetest, lightest kiss was exchanged, setting the butterflies in Y/n’s chest stampeding throughout her entire body. There was no way she was ever going to get used to that.

“About damn time!” Isla stepped forward and clapped, grinning widely.

“Did you know?” Y/n asked, looking between Maria and Isla. “You were involved?”

“Y/n, it was getting painful watching you two skirt around each other like that. And I know you, I saw the way you act when Maria would leave, almost as if there were thunderclouds around your head. Even if you hadn’t figured it out, the rest of us had.”

Y/n frowned. That was the second time everyone else had figured it out before she had. Was she really that unaware?

Natasha leaned into Wanda’s arms as they watched from the doorway, smiles breaking out across their faces as the almost sickly sweet young love in front of them. Y/n looked the happiest she had in months, barely able to take her eyes off Maria even as Isla chatted away. She was completely head over heels.

“Did we do this?” Natasha whispered to her wife. “Did we subconsciously make both our girls like women?”

Wanda laughed, pulling her closer into her side. “There was never any doubt with Isla, and Y/n took a little longer to come round. But I knew we’d never have a boy in the house.”

“Oh, you did?” Natasha asked with a smirk. “Confident?”

“Call it a mom instinct.”

[writingsofwesteros]

hey there love your work so much :) i hope you are still open for requests as i would love a daemon x stepdaughter reader, rhaenyra's first born and only white haired child, daemon kills rhaenyra so that he can have her and be her king consort, breeding kink and lots of babies please xxx

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

“I am nervous.” You whispered up to Daemon. Your eyes shining with tears that seemed never ending. The loss of your mother haunted you even after the weeks that had passed. Your only comfort was Daemon. Your brothers had been sent away to their inheritances; on Daemon’s orders.

It was a good idea, you thought even as you so terribly missed them. “Everything will work out.” The rogue Prince promised. He burrowed into your neck as your sweet, mouth watering scent came over him. You could never know the truth, he thought to himself as your soft body brushed against his own.

His dark smirk only widened across his face as he looked through the mirror. A King and Queen staring back at him. He was finally King. His son would be King. “Do you think she would be mad?” You whispered as his hand slowly moved to your stomach. “Of course not.” Daemon lied prettily.

He pressed a soft kiss to your neck. Your delicate fingers moved into his locks once more as you played with them. It was the day you were being crowned; even though you had been Queen for moons now. Daemon had not wasted any time breeding you; he had to secure the claim.

A softer smile came over his face as he slowly removed himself from your neck. His hand gently took your own. The matching bands; one that had once belonged to your mother brushed against his fingers. Fuck, it had him hardening at the mere thought as he slowly leaned in and brushed his lips against your own.

You hummed happily just as they met. Your arms moved to loop around his neck and bring Daemon close. You could have stayed in his arms forever. “We should go now.” You whispered up to him. Daemon only hummed; brushing your noses together before finally stepping away from you.

“My Queen.” He purred and gently brought your hand to his soft lips and gave you a kiss. Your heart skipped a beat at the action. A slight blush came over you as he gently stroked your stomach once more. He opened the door for you and the guards stepped aside to allow you to pass.

Daemon nodded for you to continue as he watched you walk away.

~

2 YEARS LATER

“I will speak with the Queen.” Daemon spoke; dismissing the small council as he lounged back into the head seat. “My King.” They whispered and his body shivered at the title. A smirk tugged on his lips. It had all been worth it in the end. There was no regret in Daemon’s body; there never had been.

Especially when he had everything he wanted. The throne, a pure wife and heirs to match. “Mama.” The loud shout of one of his twins had the rogue Prince looking to the side. His shared rooms are now filling up. “Father…” His oldest babbled and began to make his way over to Daemon with his little legs.

Your eyes softened at the sight in front of you. A sweet smile came over your face as you held your son’s hand. Your fingers played with his own before the peaceful moment was interrupted by the children’s maid. She bowed politely before you gently pushed your toddling boy towards her.

“They are growing fast.” You whispered to him; eyes softened as you began to play with your fingers. Daemon only hummed as his legs spread apart. You reached for his hand that he reached out. He brought your hand to his lips and softly pressed a kiss as you ducked your head. Still, even after all this time.

It was endearing, Daemon thought to himself as he suddenly tugged you onto his lap and watched you gasp out. His smirk only widened as he looked at the Goddess in front of him. “I have missed you.” He whispered into your ear before softly mouthing at your sweet neck; nibbling on you.

You hummed; your head lolling to give your husband more access as a soft giggle escaped you. His hands hungrily moved over your body as he leaned in; his soft lips passionately capturing your own. You moaned as your tongues danced; massaging each other as the rogue Prince tugged your straps down.

“Dae…” You whimpered out as the cold breeze slowly moved over your body but his response was to only smirk. You could feel his hand moving underneath and tugging on his own pants. “We don’t have time..” You moaned but you could feel your wetness begin to drip down your inner thighs. And he could too.

“You always make time for me.” Daemon nearly snarled into your ear as he lifted you up; his hand fisting his cock before gently guiding you back down onto him. His fat cock easily spread you but still there was such a delicious stretch. “Oh gods…” You moaned; eyes rolling as the familiar, addictive pleasure moved through you.

His dark chuckle echoed around the room as his greedy hands moved towards your bouncing breasts. He pinched your sensitive nipples and listened as your cries of pleasure only grew louder. “Bounce for me, kitten.” Daemon whispered his nickname for you, which only had your weeping pussy clamping on him.

Fuck, you felt so good around him. The thought of breeding you again had his hips jerking quickly. He watched as you began to fall apart around him already as he moaned out his pleasure. His hand slowly moved down your body to begin playing with your sweet, wet pussy as you clamped around his throbbing cock.

“Good girl..my good girl.” Daemon whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you whined his name. Your fingers tugging his locks as his thrusts only quickened until he was jackhammering inside you. He pinched your clit in time with his thrusts as your climax ripped through you without warning.

You squirted around his cock as Daemon wrapped his arms around you. He burrowed into your neck as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm; eager to cum deep inside you.

TAGLIST

@aerangi

@casualheartadorable @hotdreads @phantoms-main-blog

@slutmeoutsworld@targaryenmoony 

@janelongxox 

@severewobblerlightdragon @lettherebrelight

@i-killed-ramsey

@writerslove2403 

@opheliax98

@bshelley322 

@casualheartadorable @kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@multifndom@7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa @heartysworld

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@believeinthefireflies95@kid-from-new-zealand @mypatrochilles @ladystardvsts

@vivalarevolution@my-dark-prince

[hype-blue-fixation]

SFW Lee/Ler Alastor Tickle Headcannons (Because they are plaguing my mind and I will not be able to do homework until they're out.) warning that some of these might be slightly intense?? So yur :>

LER

He loves being an overly playful and extremely teasy ler. It depends on his mood and he can switch it up in a heartbeat.

His favorite teases (to give and receive) are related to power dynamics, eating someone, or metaphorically killing them.

His favorite spots to tease are ribs, bellies, necks, and spines.

Most of the time he sticks to using claws, teeth, and tongue to tickle. But occasionally he will venture to use feathers, brushes, or knives. Only if the lee is comfortable, of course.

He loves a vocal lee. Giggle, scream, choke on your own laughs. He'll eat it all up.

He notices everything. He comments on everything. Radio is audio only, after all. How will anyone know what a precious lee is doing unless he announces it?

Constantly fishes for feedback from his lee. If they express being genuinely uncomfortable or use a safe word, he will immediately back off and give them space. But he will make fun of it later (unless his lee specifically asks him not to joke about it) just to be a playful pester. "Last time I tickled you, you had to use our safe word! I'm just soooo terrible, aren't I~?"

Makes DIRECT eye contact. CONSTANTLY.

Will baby talk a lee into oblivion.

Nonchalantly says flustering things and drops t-word bombs in casual conversations.

Makes fun of people's fluster topics. "What do you mean, you can't say 'tickle'? I'll say it for you! Tickle tickle tickle~!", "Oh, you're ticklish behind the knees? That's such a nonsensical place, darling!"

Loves demanding clear sentences when he's in the middle of tickling someone senseless.

He loves breaking a bratty lee with spider soft tickles and flustery teases. It's so satisfying to see them lose control~

Cracks the dumbest jokes to make his lee laugh before he even touches their body. He calls it "tenderizing" them.

He only dishes out teases that he would also enjoy, so it's not uncommon for him to fluster himself to pieces.

LEE

Tickles a ler to provoke them to tickle back.

Purposely puts himself in vulnerable positions to invite a ler to tickle him. Such as sitting with his body twisted to leave his ribs open, or practically putting his arm/neck in their face when reaching across them.

100% a masochistic lee. He will purposely keep his arms up and twist to give his ler the best access to his tickle spots.

He is a very vocal and dramatic lee. Volume settings are loud and louder.

He will quip, tease, and provoke his ler as long as he has breath. They need to know he always gets the last word.

Loves silly jokes and other dumb things. Like if Lucifer tickled him while wearing a duck suit, man would absolutely crack up and double die before he was even touched.

His favorite "tools" are claws, teeth, tongue, and knives. Basically anything dangerous or related to eating.

The more a ler promises him something will hurt or make him fall apart, the more excited and anticipated he gets.

His favorite spots are the belly, neck, forearms, and ears. Especially really soft tickles. He will absolutely melt.

While he loves intense rough tickling, soft tickles will always be his favorite. They make him think of his Mama doing "kittytails" when he got too overstimulated as a kid. They make him extremely giggly and affectionate.

Tickling is his primary way of bonding in a relationship. If he invites/asks you to tickle him, that means he genuinely wants an emotional connection and doesn't just see you as a toy.

Honestly I will probably think of more, so consider this part 1 of God knows how many.

Also have some bratty lee headcannons here if you want them.

[coallise]

New daughter

Young Vaggie kills her first sinner and Carmilla takes pity and promises she will never have to kill another. @korrasamiswan

I had another idea on how this goes but I wanted to get a quick one out for your request. I don't know if I'll try to make this a fully fledged story but if anyone gets inspired tag me.

Carmilla ducked behind a pillar. She heard the wing beats of the exorcists. Two of them landed, one wearing the normal uniform, tall and proud throwing a sinner down at her feet. The other was tiny, it reminded Carmilla of her daughters when they were younger. She didn’t have a mask so her short gray hair and gold eyes were on display. The little girl clutched her spear tightly to her chest.

“Go on, Vagina, kill him,” The older one ordered.

“But-” Vagina quivered.

“Kill him or else,” the older one threatened. Carmilla gripped the pillar tighter. Vagina sniffled and stabbed the sinner. Tears pouring out of her eyes causing her to chock.

“Done,” Vagina rubbed her wet eyes. The older exorcist smacked her to the ground.

“Crying over the damned? Pathetic. I expect you to kill ten more by the end of the night. Bring proof or I won’t let you return to heaven,” The older exorcist flew off and Vagina hiccuped and reached for her spear.

“I’ll be taking that,” Carmilla grabbed the spear and then picked up Vagina, “and you two. How about I bring you home? I have candy.”

“I would like some candy, but not for too long. I got to do my job,” Vagina sniffled as she rested against Carmilla.

Carmilla snorted. They ducked and dodged threw the buildings until they reached the safe house. Her daughters still sleeping peacefully as Carmilla made the young exorcist some food and gave her candy.

“Thank you, miss, but I got to go now,” Vagina smiled and went to get off the table but Carmilla grabbed her again.

“Hmm, no,” Carmilla bounced her as she brought Vagina to the bathroom where she started a bath. A nightgown already sat on the counter, “I think I’ll keep you. After all, you don’t want to kill right?”

“No, but I have to,” Vagina frowned as Carmilla undressed and started to bathe her. Getting every speck of blood and grime off the child.

“If I remember correctly, the other one said that if you don’t kill ten more, then you stay in hell. I quite like that idea, you staying in hell with me and my family,” Carmilla scooped up some bubbles and blew them in Vagina’s face.

Vagina stuck out her hand, “Adam told me how demons work, you like deals. If I stay with you, do you promise to take care of me?”

Carmilla smiled and took her hand, “like one of my own daughters.”

The deal was sealed and it was as if a weight was lifted off of Vagina as her gold eyes turned white on red to match Carmilla’s.

“I will tell you right now, I’m renaming you. How about Vaggie?”

“Vaggie works, love you mama,” Vaggie yawned and Carmilla finished the bath. Drying her off and putting her in bed with her other two daughters that subconsciously wrapped themselves around her.

////////////

Lute paced in front of the portal. It was time to go and there was no sign of Vagina anywhere.

“We are so fucked,” Adam huffed, “we have to go.”

Lute nodded and went into the portal. For his credit, Adam tried to hide it. But when Peter came to babysit he noticed one less child and told Sera, who checked the orb to find the kid in hell playing boardgames with her new family.

“I told you a million times that you can not bring the children to hell! They have to be at least sixteen!” Sera growled.

“We can just go there and get her back, no big deal,” Adam tried.

“No we can’t, she made a deal with her new ‘mama’, we can’t break it. I tried calling Lucifer and he laughed saying he would never even think of trying to take one of her children,” Sera said.

“Well, nothing more we can do, huh?” Adam shrugged.

“You are on sewer duty for the next five years.”

also @tanema123, thanks for helping

[dancingdonatello]

HI ITS 🦆 ANON THE ONE WHO MADE AN AO3 CUZ OF YOU! AND YES I DID MEAN REQS I JUST CANT TYPE FOR SHIT 💀

I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD DO LIKE VILLIAN!TURTLES HEADCANONS?

LIKE DONNIE AND MIKEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN RAISED BY DRAXUM, AND DRAXUM NUTURED DONNIES LOVE FOR SCIENCE OR SMTH AND MIKEY MYSTIC POWERS WERE TRAINED BY DRAXUM TOO

AND MAYBE LEO WAS RAISED BY BIG MAMA

IDK ABOUT RAPH BUT YEAH!

BASICALLY THEY'RE RAISED TO HATE HUMANS, BUT THEN AFTER MEETING/ENCOUNTERING Y/N THEIR PERSPECTVIE CHANGES (ATLEAST ON THE READER)

MAYBE LIKE WRITE ABOUT THEIR VEIW ON THE READER, AND MAYBE THEY INVITE THE READER OVER TO THEIR HOME, OR MAYBE EVEN TELLING THEIR VILLAIN PAERNTS THEY LIKE A HUMAN, OR ALL 3!!!-

IM SORRY I JUST GET SO HYPED SEEING YOUR WORK AND I HAVENT REQUESTED ANYTHING IN A WHILE AND I JUST SAW ONE OF YOUR POSTS AND STIMMING AND KICKING MY FEET AND OVERALL JUST AKSJDHKJFHFKJH

ANYWAY THX FOR TAKING TIME TO READ THIS AND TYPE IT IF YOU DO! FEEL FREE TO PUT THIS ON PAUSE OR JUST DELETE IT

MAKE SURE TO DRINKS LOTS OF WATER, AND EAT! AND CHECK WHAT TIME IT IS, DONT WANNA FUCK UP UR SLEEP SCHEDULE ANYMORE THAN IT IS LMAO!!!

AND STRETCH YOUR WRISTS BESTIE

🦆 anon @duckanon

<3 <3 luv u duck anon.

villain rise turtles x reader

You have something that Raph needs. He’s been tracking you for months and he knows that you have a piece of the armor he needs for the resurrection of the Shredder.

And he’s never been one for plans, so…

He breaks in through your window.

You scream and then he screams and you’re holding on with an impressive grip on the armor piece and….

And you’re…. you’re so… cute. He suddenly lets go of the glove and you go flying back, knocking your head against the wall. He lets out an eep and rushes over, cradling your head.

You look pretty freaked out at his change of heart and he doesn’t blame you.

How he’s going to explain this to the Foot Lieutenant and the Foot Brute, he has no idea.

They take your introduction pretty well. So do you, by how you actually willingly hand over the glove.

But… your reaction when you find out about the Shredder at the baseball game destroys any loyalty he has left for the Foot Clan. He can’t bear to see that terrified expression on your face when you look at him.

Leo may have snuck up to the part of the hotel Big Mama told him to stay away from. But how could she blame him? People watching was his favorite past time! Who better to watch than some stupid humans?

And when his eyes landed on you, he just knew he had to have you. He wouldn’t regret it even when Big Mama punished him. If he hadn’t have snuck up to the floors above ground, he wouldn’t never seen you.

And anyways, his was birthday was coming up… and Big Mama said he could have anything he wanted. He grinned to himself, deciding to sneak into your room that night to ‘introduce’ himself. He’d leave a sticky note and scare you. Just a little.

Big Mama adored you. She gave you all these clothes so that you could look as perfect as her and Leo. She used for entertainment for the other Yokai, even when Leo glared on with jealously.

Soon enough, she was going to get her hands on some mysterious green ooze from three other turtles that looked suspiciously like Leo. As long as Leo didn’t find out about it, you would be the perfect test subject. And wouldn’t it be so sweet to see a lover’s quarrel in the Battle Nexus? She giggles at the thought.

Donatello has been bugged by you for a while.

In one of his rare outings to New York, obviously not letting Draxum know, he had run into you. He had been trying to break into a tech store and then you had appeared behind him.

He broke your nose but he hadn’t been left i scratched.

Then he just kept running into you again and again. He was half inclined just to kill you, but he feels like it would annoy him more with how much effort that would be towards someone like you.

You were annoying and just as mean as he was to you. It irritated him whenever you came back with a comment just as sharp as what he gave you.

One day, in one of his complaining rants to Mikey, Draxum overheard. Even though Donnie denied that it, Draxum was convinced he had a crush on a pathetic human. So, he decided he would kill you. As if you were nothing. Just scum on the Earth. All so Donnie wouldn’t be ‘distracted’ any longer. By that he meant he just wanted Donnie to work insane hours so Draxum wouldn’t have to work as hard.

And Donnie… couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let a single hair on you be injured.

There’s an angry turtle staring you down. Michelangelo and you had run into each other. One looking beat up and the other looking flabbergasted.

“You’re a… turtle?!”

Suddenly, you’re wrapped up in chains. That burnt badly.

“Ow!” you shriek and suddenly, just as quickly as they had come, they vanished. Big brown guilty eyes stare at you.

His face twitches before it turns disgusted. “Ugh. You smell disgusting.”

He was talking about the smell of your brunt skin. You glared at him angrily before seeing how bashed up he was. “What… happened to you?”

He was very reluctant to follow you home. And he kept asking you weird questions about other green turtles. Had you ever seen anyone that looked like him? Where? When? All these questions while you tried to stick a bandaid on him.

He also didn’t hold back on his mean comments about the human race. But as long as he sat still as you tried to rub the ash and debris off of him, you just let him talk.

Quickly, he warms up to you. It’s as if he never hated humans. He enjoys learning about everything you do and seeing all of what New York has to offer. He knows you can never meet Draxum. And even though he’s getting suspicious the more he leaves and the longer he’s out, Mikey continues to see you.

[ducknewtonscoolhat]

On this day I present

Every single time Duck Newton is horrible at lying !

Episode 7

Duck: Yeah, it’s a nickname. Listen, y’all got a van handy, why don’t you hop in and get on trucking. Don’t forget to— don’t worry ‘bout your clothes. We’ll drive them up seperate.

Swimmer: Why can’t we take our clothes?

Duck: [freezing up] You need to— you need— uh. Here, I’ll get them. Y’all start loading in the van and I’ll bring your clothes out to ya’s. Just another one of the many services we offer from the Forestry Service.

Episode 10

Pigeon: Well, I know how to do it, I just wanna know why.

Duck: Perfect. Perfect. Why? It's for firefighter training? Yeah, it's for firefighter training. It's been a little while since I last told someone that, so I had some time to forget it. But it's for firefighting training, cuz we can't get enough water pressure to fight the fires, forest fires.

Pigeon: Out in Monongahela?

Duck: Yeeeeeeep.

Pigeon: Duck, that's on the opposite side of town. I can find other places that I can get you some more water pressure instead of pumping it out of the water park almost a mile away.

Duck: Yeah, but the water park is definitely gonna be closed. If you can tell me somewhere where you can guarantee that they're not gonna need that amount of water that's using that amount, I'd love to hear about it. Cus, off the top of my head, I can't improvise anything.

Pigeon: There's a reservoir right next to Monongahela.

Duck: The reservoir is a source of water but it's not gonna give other— fuck, listen Pigeon, here's the thing. I... love... to… practice fishing. But... the running water... frightens me, it's called hydrophobia. And I would love to practice my cast in a real water environment where I can get in a large body where I can guarantee that running water won't be a factor. And I would just love to practice my cast in a guaranteed still body. But here's the other thing, sometimes if you do it in a lake, that's what you're thinking, a fish will bite it and normally that's ideal, but I'm just trying to practice casting. It's like, when you don't want to catch, that's when they're biting, y’know what I mean? So I need a still body of water that I can guarantee won't move to practice my fishing casting.

Episode 13

Duck: I should’ve put some time into it, honestly, but I uh… I was real busy with family over the holidays, so I didn’t make much—

Mama: You literally just said you didn’t have any family in town over the holidays.

Duck: God dammit. Dammit!

Mama: I mean, it’s fine if you couldn’t dig anything up, but you don’t gotta lie to old Mama, you know?

Duck: Dammit! Dammit, Duck!

Mama: You don’t have to beat yourself up about it, Duck, I mean po—

Duck: Fuck!

Episode 14

EMT: Do you know what happened to him?

Duck: Oh boy…um…do you want the truth or a more convincing lie? Um, nah so, okay, right… so the Pizza Hut sign started to fall, ‘cause of the weather, and he ran up there on… a fire escape… and tried to push it? …With a bat? Damn it. Nah, he just pushed it, and it fell, but then he fell ‘cause he got shocked. I bet… mmm…I didn’t see. I was in-Ah, shit! Alright, hey fol-hey guys, rewind. I-hey guys, rewind a second. Ah fuck! I was inside, I didn’t see. Anything! I don’t know… this man. I do know this man. His name-Fuck!  Alright, I Ned, hi, here's-hmmm. Alright, so this man’s name is Ned, and he’s a friend of mine, and I don’t know what the hell happened to him, but you know this guy. He’s always getting into something. I don’t know, I was in the building, I almost got killed by a Pizza Hut sign. I might be in shock!

Episode 18

Duck: Honestly… uh if I gotta tell you the truth, Juno, I’m— I was trying to get into character. I’ve been—

Juno: You’re going undercover with these teens?

Duck: —I’m going undercover. I got a undercover teenage identity. It’s— it’s Frick Richums and when I assume the identity of Frick Richums, I’m trying to get undercover, with the Hornets [hisses] so I can find their illegal grow thing. [grunts]

Juno: You are a truly miserable liar, Duck Newton.

Duck: Goddamnit! I put on such a good— damnit!

Juno: Hey, when you’re finished with the… with those, those nails. Would you mind taking them back to the station? I need to sort of keep going around the perimeter see if I can find something to, you know, maybe help with your investigation to take down those— those drug kingpins, the Hornets.

Duck: Yeah, Juno, about that. I— I was kidding about that, of course. I was just having some fun. But I did… I did hear some of them talking on...... Facebook about you and how they were gonna target you. Like they need to get you out of the way. And it kinda freaked me out a little bit. Can you think of any reason anybody would wanna get you… outta the way? Or— or be targeting you? Like… for this?

Episode 21

(Deputy Dewey is asking for alibis)

Duck: Me— Me— Me too.

Deputy Dewey: You too what? You were

Duck: Yup.

Deputy Dewey: Alright…

Duck: Me too. I was— Yup, I— Yup, me too, for both. Yup, me too. Mmm…

Aubrey: Duck, are you okay? You look like you need to use the bathroom.

Duck: Nope. Yeah, I do. Yup. Uh, Burritos, alright… Bye.

Episode 22 Featuring Ned and Aubrey also being bad at lying

Morgue Technician: Can I help y'all with something?

Duck: Well, we would like to see the bodies of--

Aubrey: My brother!

Duck: My dad.

Ned: My son.

Duck: His brother. Her-- His-- His son, her brother, my dad.

Aubrey: Not related. There's two of 'em.

Ned: But you have to figure out which two.

Duck: We need to see a body for a dare. I'm sorry about all the lies from before but we need to see a body for a dare.

Aubrey: I was dared to look at the body of my brother.

Ned: And my son.

Aubrey: I was dared to look at the body of his son. Who is also my brother. Because he is my father.

Episode 32

Duck: Um… yup. It‘s… Harpo. Uh, all… [imitating crackling noise] Y‘all hearing this? [imitating crackling] The… radio break up. Radio break up. Mrrr.

[sugaimhome]

i don’t care - min yoongi - one shot

genre : fantasy, smut, enemies to lovers 

pairing: min yoongi x reader

summary: he was the villain. you were the hero. yoongi will make you his.

warnings: sexual content, slight dom + sub thing, missionary, doggy, unprotected sex, creampie, he slaps her like once but its not abusive, sex in a church tower, yoongi can’t not be rough (he has a breakdown over it) fantasy au. villain yoongi. starts yandere then changes. daechwita yoongi but not the one with long hair the one with the undercut.

words: 5k

A/N: not sure if i like this. not proof read. i tried to write yoongi as yandere the whole way through but i just have a soft spot for this man and couldn’t do it.

do not interact if you are a minor!

This whole villain thingy was a lot easier for Yoongi before you came along. He was doing so well, he'd killed half of his opponents, most of the good guys and was so close to getting what he had wanted. Now all his plans had been put aside. He no longer wanted the most power in the world, he wanted you. It was so wrong, he knew that, you were the hero and he was the villain, but he was the villain and he had to maintain his reputation of being twisted and corrupted. It was only natural, only what had to be done, he was going to risk everything for you.

You, however, had been completely oblivious to Yoongi's very obvious change of heart. Your goal was to keep your family and home safe; not to fall almost dramatically in love with your main rival. And you wouldn’t, you’d promised yourself that.

Nightfall seemed to come earlier tonight, families walked the streets using small candles to light their way, bright cat eyes shone in the dim flames. It was the village's annual celebration of their king, and you’d remained at the top of the church tower scouting for Yoongi because you were sure he wouldn’t pass on such a rare opportunity to ruin the joy and beauty of such a unique event. You watched each family pass, some of the children looking up and pointing at you through the dark night, you ducked behind the spire each time with a small smile on your face as you listened to their words. “It’s her Mama, the one who saves us!” 

Your heroism was about being a hero, of course, but you also liked the attention.

When you return from the cover of the spire, something has changed. The family had gone, you’d ensured they would be gone by the time you’d turned around, but they seemed to be the last. The village square, without their dim candle lights, had fallen into complete darkness. You smile, deciding that the newfound darkness and quiet meant everyone had returned home and, disappointingly, Yoongi had missed his chance. No chance for heroism tonight. You take one last look at the square before skidding down the side of the slanted roof, your feet playing the tiles like a piano. You stop at the edge, then dramatically step backwards off the side.

You often used the church spire as a lookout, and this move was completely natural to you. Grabbing the gutter, that squeaks under your weight, you catapult into the lantern, where they keep the bells, and freeze. He’s there, the scarred side of his face being lit by the full moon. He's looking at you, not with cruelty but with the same emotions he has when about to go on a mission.

“Did I miss the fun?” he asks, tilting his head mockingly. He's so close to you, he must have known that you would land exactly here at this moment. It unsettles you to know he's been here before, watching you in a place you thought was your own. A place you thought was to your advantage.

"It's only just begun" you sneer back, reaching down for the dagger tucked between your sock and your boot. It's not there. You panic, stepping back a bit before your legs hit the side of the church. The wall only reaches up to your knees and the sudden contact knocks you off balance. You flay your arms around like a bird in flight, apart from you're not a bird. You're falling, what a shit way to die. 

As your arms flap around, all the decisions Yoongi made seem to hit him all at once. He should let you fall. But he can't do that, so he reaches out and grabs you by the arm, your skin is cold, he feels the sudden urge to warm you up.

Your first thought when the hand touches your arm is that he's pushing you. Pushing you over the side of the church as a real villain would do. Yet, somehow you weren't falling, you were being pulled closer to him, your chests fall together and your breathing syncs as one. You should be moving away from him, away from the villain. But you don’t. 

Yoongi is surprised when you don't push away from him, he certainly thought it would be a harder task to make you his. Confidence fills his mind, power moves every muscle in his body. He places his hand on the back of your waist, ensuring that you don't move away from his chest. His other hand flings his dagger (it was your dagger until he stole it from your boot earlier, but he figured that wasn't the point here) off the side of the church. He thinks he can hear it clatter to the cobblestones below, but that would be impossible, they are as high as the clouds. Do the clouds hear the rain as it beats the fields below them?

When the dagger goes flying off the side of the church everything changes. You were two equals now, and with his arm around your waist you look up at him. It was a mistake, for the second your eyes meet yours he's kissing you, and there is no way that you can pull away from him now. His lips are oddly soft, his taste somewhere between strawberries and something more sour like lemons. It's pleasant and you move into his kiss further. One of his hands is in your hair, twisting your head to kiss you harder. It is at this point you know nothing will ever be the same again. You’re very aware that you shouldn’t be doing this right now. Or ever. Then you're moving backwards again, your legs are on the edge of the wall again now, but like a fool you’re so deep into the kiss you couldn’t imagine the possibility of him letting go of you, of pushing you. He pulls away from you and it dawns on you then how close you are to the side, how you have nothing to grab if you fall. 

“Yoongi?” You ask, as if you’ve been friends for years and he’s just pulling a silly prank. 

“Do you trust me?” he questions, his voice deep. He’s got a hold of your arms. There's something you've never seen behind his eyes… something oddly protective.

Watching you look at him with such wide eyed shock causes Yoongi to go slightly mad. A year ago he would have pushed you, he would have leant over the side of the little safety wall and watched you fall until all he could see was a red splatter of blood on the stones below the church. He would have picked up your body and placed it in the middle of the square for everyone to see that he had won. Now when he looked at you, he saw someone he would tear the world apart for, piece by piece. A light breeze blows between you, it picks up a strand of your hair, placing it in front of your eyes. Instinctively, he reaches up to tuck it back behind your ear. “Do you trust me?” he asks again, not embarrassed by the desperate tone to his voice.

At first you’re hesitant, do you trust him? It would be weird to say yes. Even weirder to actually admit it after all this time. But- “Yes” you breathe, letting the warmth of your breath touch the very closeness of his lips. 

“Even if I do this?” he whispers, pushing you back further against the knee high wall, you are hanging backwards a little over the wall now, the weight of his hands keeping you in place. Your heart beats in your ears like the sounding of war drums, you should be panicking. You nod your head. You trust him. He lets go of one of your hands, falling back further you can see the ground below you. So far away. You look back at Yoongi, his black hair flops in front of his face, covering half his scar and his eyes, it's a wonder he can even see. His eyes are near black and in them the reflection of a singular torch lighting up the square below glitters. It's like looking into a galaxy only made of one star.

“I trust you” you say again, trying to cover the fear in your voice. Your hand is shaking. Why you didn’t just push him away earlier you don’t know. You could have ended it there. You would have survived. He pulls you back up to his chest, you’re not breathing now, not breathing when he ball-room style swings you around so he's the one with his legs against the wall. You can’t comprehend that it wasn’t all a joke, that he really didn’t let go of you.

He’s looking at you as if you’re the centre to his gravity. “Push me” he says, broadening his chest as if to give you more space to push him with. “Push me off the side of the church”

It’s awful because you want to. You want to push him. You would have pushed him if he hadn't kissed you. In his eyes you can see the torment. The confusion plagues your face. “No,” you say, taking a step back from him.

“You’re the hero, I am the villain” he replies. Yoongi is hoping you won’t push him. He wants you, but only if you want him back. “This is your chance to win.”

“I don’t care” 

He pushes back from the wall, coming towards you like a lion stalking his prey. His eyes have more colour in them now, as if you just uncovered his soul or unearthed his heart. “You don’t care” he taunts, there's mockery in his voice, it reminds you of the evil Yoongi and you’re stepping back again. 

“I don’t care,” you repeat.

He’s in front of you now his hands seem to buzz to touch you. “Would you care if they saw you kissing me”

“No, I wouldn’t care” this was his consent as he leaned down to kiss you, it's different from the last kiss, it's less passionate, more testing of both his and your control.

“You wouldn’t care if they saw my hands on you?” he pauses the kiss to ask. You shake your head. He doesn’t touch you until he says “If they saw me do this?”  and untucks your shirt from your trousers. You continue to shake your head. “Or this?” as he raises one, cold, hand up your stomach, running his pinkie over the previously covered skin. “Or this?” as he grabs one of your boobs in his hand, squeezing it around like its dough. You want to melt, you can’t speak, you’re trying to shake your head but he’s kissing you again, your backs against a wall now, it's cold where his hand has lifted up the back of your top, you don't feel it, your body is on fire. You try to reach for the waistband of his trousers but he stops your hand mid way.  “No, I am leading this”

You want to complain, why should he get the right to touch you and you not him? You pout into the kiss - trying to convey to him that you weren't happy with the lack of power you had. 

He stops kissing you to say “If you said you trusted me” he’s peppering kisses along your neck and throat now. “Then let me do this my way.” Maybe it's the way he’s found your sweet spot, and is sucking it like a starving leach you nod in agreement. You realise that the almost painful kissing is more for him to leave his mark on you. That sends a pulse to your core. It disturbs you to know you want him to mark you, want people to know it was him. A little moan escapes your lips. Yoongi hums and it seems to go straight into your bloodstream. 

“Yoongi” you whisper, hoping to take his attention away from that area of your neck, you wanted him to do something different. You wanted him. “Please”

Yoongi doesn’t think you realise that you’re whining, moaning, pleading at him. It's cute. Yoongi liked the power he had established here, he liked being in control of you. He intended to torture you like this for hours, maybe even until the sun came up. Then he would take you here on the floor of the church, damn the gods, or on the roof where you always perched to watch for him. He would make this night so memorable you’d be bound to him, you’d never leave him or fight against him again. You’d be his.

He nips the skin of your neck one last time, you’re only distantly aware of a high pitched whine you let out. Tugging again at your shirt he grips either side of it at your waist, looking at you as he brings it up, ever so slowly, over the hills of your covered breasts. For a moment all you can see is the inside of your shirt, still warm where it had been touching your skin. Then your shirt is gone, you watch as Yoongi balls it up in his hands, and there's nothing you can do as he flings it over the side of the church. It falls through the air like a pebble through water, slowly twisting, raising a little then dropping further. When you turn to look at him again he has a dagger in his hand, you let out a breath of shock, suddenly very still. He had a dagger all along and didn’t get rid of it. You push yourself further against the wall. “Yoongi?” you ask, maybe you could talk some sense into him. Tears fill your eyes. What a humiliating way to die.

He pulls you towards him, one hand gripping the skin of your waist. You wait for the dagger to pierce your heart or to stab your side, but instead you feel the blade against your back. You stood against him, looking up into his eyes when it touched the band of your bra. The bandage-like strip meets the dagger with some resistance but after forcing the dagger up further you hear the material begin to rip. Trusting Yoongi with your life again you rest your head against his shoulder, giving him a better view of the cut he was making. You revel in the feeling of your breasts becoming less confined, letting out a little satisfied sigh. As the bra falls from you, the distant clatter of a dagger being thrown far away wakes you from your bliss. “I told you to trust me” he says, though you don’t read any upset in his voice.

“It’s difficult,” you reply. Your nipples pull tight in the cold wind, or maybe from the arousal. Yoongi wastes no time in attaching his warm lips to the skin of them. The contrast between the warmth of his mouth on one of your boobs and the cold of his hand against the other causes your knees to almost give out under you. “I want more” you whine, putting a hand in his hair and you’re sure you feel him smile against your nipple. 

“In a minute” he replies, breaking the contact with his mouth and you.

“Wanna suck you off” you try to convince him, but to no avail, he doesn’t change his attack on your body. 

“Not. Tonight” he exaggerates. For a moment you feel nothing but shock. Not only did that mean he didn’t care about his pleasure but also yours it seemed he had the intention of this happening more than once. You’re not sure you’ve ever been with someone like that before. 

In the distance you're vaguely aware of the sun beginning to rise over the crest of the hill. The crimson light it gives off hits the top of the church, casting its shadow across the square below you. Yoongi finishes peppering kisses along your stomach and for a moment you think that's it, you think he's going to leave you here, half naked and alone. He must see the fear in your eyes, he stands up, kissing you on the forehead. He leans against you, almost crushing you against the wall. His breath is on your ear, breathing heavy. “Are you ready for me”

You nod your head.

“Are you wet for me”

You nod your head. You’d been drenched from the moment he first kissed you. Feeling your heart pulsing in your pussy. 

Yoongi is very satisfied with your answers, helps you out of your loose pants, his eyes catching on the wetness left behind on your pants. Now you stood completely bare in front of him, slightly shivering in the cold of the air around you. A little black triangle of hair hid you from him. He was so hard he knew he wouldn’t last long with you. He doesn’t want to waste anymore time, he wants to be inside you. He chucks his jacket on the floor, his shirt following that. He would have kept them on but he didn’t want you to get cold. “Lie down.” he points towards his jacket and shirt. He, for a moment, thinks he sees tears in your eyes, but they are gone before he can think anymore of it. He’s aware of you sitting down on the cold floor as he pulls down his trousers, his cock jumps straight from them and slaps his stomach. Once his trousers are disregarded he turns back to you, who is staring wide eyed at him.

You can’t believe he denied you touching his cock. It looked so perfect, you could see the angry veins protruding from here. You gulp. You want him inside you so badly. You squeeze your legs together. He sees this and walks towards you, his dick so erect it hardly moves as he walks. Instead of telling you off for not lying down as he asked you, he says “is it too cold?” you shake your head.

Kneeling on the floor in front of you so your knees touch he mumbles “good.” Yoongi uses the palms of his hands to spread your legs apart, he can see you now, you’re glistening in the sunlight, your wetness practically dripping from you. He feels his dick twitch. After all those weeks of obsessing over this moment, he's now immensely worried. “lay back for me.” 

You do as you’re told, you’re also amazed at how quickly you handed over power to him. He kneels there for a moment just staring at your pussy. You close your legs with anxiety. “You’re beautiful” he reminds you and a blush runs to your cheeks. Using the palms of his hands he again opens your legs. Slowly climbing up your body, he kisses your stomach and mutters “so beautiful.” If it were anyone else you’d be mortified. But you’re not, you feel safe. He kisses up the valley of your breasts, on your neck where he’d left his mark earlier, then kisses you once on your chin. But you hardly feel that because all you can feel is his cock that has rested itself upon your thigh. You stop breathing, looking him directly in the eyes. 

Then he's moving forward, his dick pushes past your entrance. He sighs in relief but a tear slips from the corner of your eye. He’s so deep and so thick inside you it hurts. Yoongi apologises in your ear, a string of sorrys falling from his lips. “It’s okay” you say, running a hand through his hair, you don’t even know when you put it there. The light pain you felt dwindles away into pleasure. “You can move now” you hint, moving your hips a little, feeling him move about inside you. He's so warm.

He groans an “I can’t.” You tense.

“Why, are you okay?” panic laces your voice. A care for him fills your heart that you feel like you’ve been pressing back for ages. 

“Wanna fuck you” he whines, you feel his dick twitch, your pussy clenches in response. “So hard the outline of your body is dented into the floor of the church”

You clench around him. “But I don’t want to hurt you” You are surprised at his wanting to protect you. 

“I wanna be fucked” you reply, a newfound power in your voice. “I’ll be okay”

You, for a moment, wonder how weird this situation is. You’d had sex with people in the past but you knew those people, they knew your limits and you knew theirs. With Yoongi it was all new. “Please” you say. You wanted to find out everything about him, and it would start with knowing the unfiltered version of him right now.

He grabs your waist, kissing the lobe of your ear one last time before flipping you around. He kneels between your legs. “Raise your ass for me” 

You do as you’re instructed, arching your back on instinct. “What a good girl” he comments and your pussy clenches around the air at the compliment. He chuckles at you. Grabbing your waist again he uses it to anchor you as he, unlike last time, slowly inches into you. You shake with the intensity of the moment - how different he feels at this angle. A little whimper falls past his lips. You know he’s holding back. He’s still pushing into you when you push back against him, he fills you up to the hilt, you can feel his abdomen against your ass. Letting him take back the control he had claimed as his earlier, he begins to push back and forth. You can feel him inside of you, feel your heart, or maybe it was his, beat everytime he was fully inside of you. You don’t know what you did, maybe you pushed back a little or maybe you pulsed without realising it but suddenly Yoongi was going a lot faster. Your hair was falling down in front of your face as your head flops in ecstasy. It doesn’t surprise you that Yoongi pulls your hair from your face and uses it to stop you from moving forward every time he thrusts into you. He's so deep. The pain from your scalp is only secondary to the pleasure you feel, it makes the build up in your stomach heighten.

“Oh my gods” you mumble. Your hands are freezing cold against the stone floor, but you don’t care, the dick’s so good. Yoongi is so good. “Please” you beg him, you don’t know what you are begging him to do but whatever it is you hope he does it soon. There's a build up of such strong pleasure in your lower abdomen you think you might explode. Even Yoongi can feel this.

“Wait for me” he commands, and you try. You think of summer fields and children running about in the grass jumping like deer, you think of birds that fly really high only to drop, a swirling tornado. Then you pull yourself back to Yoongi. Back to his dick pounding into you so hard and deep, back to one of his hands in your hair, the other gripping your waist like a vice. Back to the cold, cold floor. Back to Yoongi, grunting, whining and moaning above you. You’ve no doubt you sound exactly the same. 

“Yoongi” you warn. You are so close, your toes are over the edge. He lets go of your waist, you think he is going to let go of you entirely just as you get so close, but he uses it to smack each of your arsecheeks. You whine in a shocking pleasure. The sound echoes around the tower, the sound of his balls hitting your clit probably echoes out around the village. You don’t care. Then both of his hands are on  your waist again and much to your disappointment, he slips his dick from you. You whine. 

“I want to look at you” there's a shuffling and then he's flipping you over again, you’re facing him now, your back on the floor. This man is really indecisive. “Hi” he says.

“Hi” you reply, but it's cut off with a moan as he enters you again. You don’t know why he had to fuck you from behind a minute ago - his fucking from missionary was pretty damn adequate. “Shit, shit, shit” you chant. “Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi” you say in time to his thrusts. 

“You’re so good for me” he says, diving for one of your nipples and playing with it between his teeth. There's so much pleasure you think you might explode, and there's not really much warning, and you can’t tell him because you can’t speak. But your cumming, hot and white lights seem to centre your vision, you can only see Yoongi amidst the roaring that is the tingling along every muscle in your body. You’re twitching and Yoongi’s fucking you through it to the point where its too much. “I told you to wait” he snarls, slapping each of your cheeks lightly, it's not to hurt you but rather to encourage you to move from that orgasm to the next one. 

“Too much” you pout, hoping he’ll slow down at least a little, but he doesn’t if anything he only speeds up. 

“We are doing it together this time” he explains, his voice wavers a little and you wonder how long exactly you have to catch up with him. You’re really sensitive but the overstimulation pain seems to dwindle away and the roaring that had quietened down begins to rebuild itself. His hips become less fluid, he's close, you’re close again. 

“I’m cumming” he mumbles, his face consorted, eyes squeezed shut. Despite this, he still manages to reach down and roll your clit between two fingers. He’s cumming and he pushes inside of you so far he’s touching a place in you that you didn’t know you had, you didn’t think you were going to cum, but with the head of his cock placed against that soft spot inside of you and his cum mixing with your wetness; you are. You’re both holding onto each other, your head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream. He collapses, his arms failing to hold up his weight. He falls on top of you, his cock falling soft inside your spasming pussy. “Gods” he sighs, rolling the two of you over so your back isn’t against the cold floor and you’re lying on top of him. Your breathing is still ragged and so is his. His cold fingers trace patterns on your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind him. You want to sleep, you're so tired. “Don’t sleep, love” he reminds you “you’ve got to get home, they’ll worry about you”

A tear falls down the side of your cheek, rolling onto his chest. “What about you?” you ask him. “Where will you go?”

“Back to my home” he replies, following the trace of your tear with his finger. Almost subconsciously you run your finger down the still red scar over his eye.

“You’re lucky you’ve still got an eye” you comment.

“I am, how would I see you without it” he grabs your wrist gently. “We need to go Y/N” 

“I don’t have any clothes.” you rest your head back on his chest, watching as his thumb runs circles on your interlinked hand. You wish it was a good enough excuse to stay. Though he only chuckles, helping you back up, only pausing to place an affectionate kiss on your nose. Still naked he helps you into your clothes. Your eyes widen in shock as he, whilst helping you into your trousers, your legs still shaky, uses his thumb to scoop up some of his cum running from your centre, and brings it to your mouth. The two of you taste incredibly good. You let out a little “mmh” as if you were trying a food. He laughs, pulling up your pants the rest of the way. 

He steps into his clothes, only putting his shirt on whilst you stand there, naked from the top half, not even trying to cover your shivering anymore. He wraps his green dyed jacket around you, zipping it up at the front. 

Yoongi’s jacket is his signature, it's his calling card. Your eyes are wide as he zips you into it, pulling out your long hair from the back of the jacket. It makes you remember that he’s the villain.

If anyone sees you in this, they’ll know what happened. 

“Yoongi, they’ll lock me up” you complain, grateful for the warmth of the jacket but not the symbol it stands for. 

“They’ll also lock you up if you walk through the streets half naked”

He has a fair point. 

“Just be quick, go through the back streets and if you see anyone, hide from them.” 

He was telling you things you already knew but you nodded anyway. “Okay”

“I’ll make a headstart on you” he swings around on his feet, making a beeline for the stairs, where he would disappear to you would not know.

“Can I come with you?” you ask. You know he’ll say no.

“Not at the moment but I’ll come back to you” there's hope and a promise in his eyes.

“How will I know that?” you ask him. You feel like crying again. 

“You have my jacket.” he walks towards the arch of the stairs, half his body hiding behind the pillar. You smile, nodding your head, though not fully convinced. He continues down the stairs but he stops, you can only see his head now. “You also have my heart.”

Yoongi sprints down the stairs, his ultimate mission complete, you were his he had marked every inch of your body, he had left his seed in side you. He was the winner. 

Then he’s gone, you’re alone in the tower, holding onto the too-long sleeves of his jacket shocked at his goodbye. Now, despite your tiredness, you had to make it home in the broad day-light without anyone seeing you. Sighing, you take off down the stone steps, the mark of your enemy on more than one part of your body, heart and soul.

as always, thank you for the support. 

[rachetmath]

Rwby x video game

Ruby: Whoo… that was tough.

Yang: I can’t believe that Grimm trapped us in those video games like that.

Weiss: Indeed, my game was difficult.

Ruby: How so?

Weiss: I was a witch. I controlled time, had many weapons, and summoned creatures. But I had to do some embarrassing poses. 

Ruby: Oh you were Bayonetta. That was cool. Mid though. What about you Yang?

Yang: I was in this arcade game where I fought a bunch of people in the streets.

Ruby: Oh. I mean you fit the description of someone vandalizing property.

Yang: You know it. What about you Blake?

Blake:  I was a ninja. But instead of fighting just other ninjas, I was fighting monsters. And I also wield multiple weapons too.

Ren: You too. I was a samurai and I was fighting demons. And I can summon creatures to help me as well. And I had multiple weapons.

Blake: One of mine was a scythe.

Ruby; Really? Man. That sucks. 

Yang: What was your game, Ruby?

Ruby: I was a devil hunter. I also had a lot of weapons. But I mainly used three and a few metal arms.

Yang: Metal arms? Holy crap.

Ruby: My bosses were insane, especially the final boss. 

Ren: What about you Nora?

Nora: I fought my father.

Ren: What?

Nora: I fought my father who was trying to take my son. I did what I could but he was too strong. I managed though and survived. However, I pushed my son away from me and he left me alone. I was happy when he came back but things only got worse. I lost my friend. And though I managed to talk some sense into my father, my grandfather killed him right in front of me.

Ren: Nora it was a game.

Nora: It was real to me!

Ruby: Okay. Oscar and Emerald, how was your gaming experience?

Emerald: I was a badass treasure hunter. 

Oscar: I was a guy who wielded a Keyblade and had to fight the darkness. I made many friends but my main ones were a duck and a dog. Mainly the dog.

Ruby: Interesting. Well, Jaune what about you? What game did you go to?

Jaune: You can’t be serious. All of you have only been to one game?

Ruby: Yeah. I was in DMC.

Yang: I was in Street Fighters.

Blake: Ninja Gaiden.

Weiss: Bayonetta.

Jaune: Which one? In fact, red, blue or purple?

Weiss: Purple.

Ren: Nioh.

Nora: God of War Ragnorock 

Emerald: Tomb Raider.

Oscar: Kingdom Hearts.

Jaune: Oh my god. For real?

Ruby: Matter of fact, you’ve been gone for a while. What game were you in?

Jaune: I was in four.

Yang: Four? Like the fourth-

Jaune: No I was in four games?

Oscar: What were they like?

Jaune: Um hell.

Ruby: O.

Jaune: I was in hell. First I was in the Resident Evil series.

Yang: Number?

Jaune: 8.

Yang: Oo did you enjoy-

Jaune: I didn’t see the appeal. Especially, if the same tall woman, is trying to kill and eat you. And they were mild compared to a fungus monster, a crazy doll, a fetus, and an insane man with magnetic powers with the temper of a nine-year-old. I don’t know how I survived half that nonsense.

Yang: Damn.

Jaune: That was light work though. Then I went to find something called the Elden Ring.

Nora: Oh. Did you score any maidens?

Jaune: I will hurt you.

Ren: I mean it couldn’t been that bad. What was your role? 

Jaune: The victim.

Weiss: Didn’t you have weapons?

Jaune: Of course, in Resident Evil I had guns. Then for Elden Ring, I had swords and magic. Too bad I was against insane bosses who were completely out of my league. And one of them was a man who fought me with his bare hands! 

Nora: Oh.

Jaune: Had my butt bent over.

Oscar: Pause.

Jaune: Then Melina. Oh god. Oh god, A dragon flame thrower.

Blake: Jaune?

Jaune: After I got done with that madness, I went further deep into hell. Where my only option was to run.

Ruby: From what?

Jaune: Killer toy monkeys. An evil little girl. Clowns. Human-legged ducks. Golden Statues. Bagged Nurses. A Stuffed Mama Bear doll. I was lucky there weren’t more. 

Ruby: Oh god. 

Jaune: All while collecting these purple gems and running from the devil while assisting a witch. Who I have to admit is very hot. 

Emerald: Who were the worst?

Jaune: The worst ones were the Joy-joy Gang.

Emerald: Who were they?

Jaune: Animatronic robots.

Oscar: How were they so bad?

Jaune: Dark Deception. They’ll let you think you had a chance. First, they can become a giant ass robot. One of them can run faster than me. And when you think you've beaten all three of them, nine more will take their place- They have an army. Unlike the others, those guys had a better chance of catching me. They were just having fun. And when they caught me… … *remembers the beatdown* I swear if it wasn’t for their boss still needing me alive I wouldn’t have survived. 

Oscar: What was the last game?

Jaune: … … 

Oscar: Jaune? Jaune what was the last game?

Jaune: *remembers the people he lost. The people he’s murdered. The monsters he’s faced. The choice that could change everything.*

Jaune: I have no regrets.

Oscar: What?

Jaune: Nothing Oscar.

Ruby: Um… Are you going to be okay?

Jaune: Yep. As long as we killed the thing?

RWBY and NERO: … …

Jaune: Don’t tell me. 

*Roars*

Jaune: Let’s see.  Nine of us are here. Giant boss. Yep, we’re in an RPG. 

Ruby: Let’s go team.

Jaune: Wait what are our roles though?

*bob*

Ruby: Sniper. Cool.

Yang: Brawler. Nice.

Blake: Ninja. Hm.

Weiss: Mage. Indeed.

Emerald: Thief. Awesome.

Oscar: Support. Ah.

Nora: Berserker. Yes.

Ren: Archer. I’m fine with this.

Jaune: *terrified* 

Nora: What’s your role Jaune?

Jaune: HEY! FIGHT ME!! FIGHT! ME!

Ruby: Tank.

[tunastime]

Sunset in the Heart of that Green Valley

started drumming up an au accidentally with some input from the mutuals beloved. told myself it wasn't going anywhere but this so I had to stick as much as I could into just. this. I SWEAR. < lying

Bdubs can't remember a part of his life without Etho--no matter the shape or profession, the danger or lackthereof. It was always Etho, and himself, and this wild, wasted world. Or, Bdubs watches his cows on the farm. Etho joins him on his horseback ride around the perimeter fence.

(4111 words)

It's a long, slow ride a mile from the wire fence and sparse tree line that borders the ranch. It's nothing but cool wind and wiregrass for miles, soft green and brown as the spring starts to roll in. Soon enough the field will be full of baby calves and their healthy mamas, big brown eyes and full stomachs. Horses too—lots of 'em, kind natured but tough, enough to fight you but not enough to bite the hand that feeds 'em. He'll be able to lift a foal into his arms to stand it upright and watch its mother nose his armpit and look at him with those soft brown eyes. For now, BdoubleO takes that long ride along the border, listening to cicadas sing in the trees. That's not the only thing singing though. Besides the breathing of his horse beneath him and the cattle dog that runs ahead, is the soft, mellow voice of his partner, Etho, humming indistinctly. 

He has his head turned toward the tree line, eyes scanning listlessly for any sign of movement. Just a couple of weeks ago, they lost a handful of chickens to a fox, a thing neither of them could stand to kill even as they went looking for it. From where he rides next to him, Bdubs can see the holster for his revolver strapped tight to his thigh. He's never actually seen the gun, for what it's worth. Not in action. Not even the smell of gunpowder on Etho's leather work gloves. He's only ever watched his thin, strong, meticulous hands clean the individual parts and put it back together. It makes sense why Etho's focus is so drawn to that tree line. He probably doesn’t want it to happen again.

Bdubs watches the curve of his shoulders under the off-white button-up he's wearing. It's loose at his elbows and under his arms, but from the way he slouches, hat tipped back to cover his neck, it's tight across his back. Bdubs sighs—for a moment, that's the only thing that breaks the silence. Bdubs' longing rings out in the stale air, and a chuckle joins the hum of that wordless melody.

"Somethin' the matter, 'dubs?" Etho says, glancing over. He can just hear him through the scarf tucked around his face, tied behind his neck. His hair is tucked under his hat, tied away nearly the same. Its just his eyes, warm and smiling, eyebrows raised, when he looks over. Bdubs scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"No," he says. "Nothin's the matter. What's it to ya, anyway?"

Etho shrugs. He shuts his eyes for a second when he does. Bdubs can picture the little frown on his face when he does.

"Figured I'd ask," he says cooly. "That was a pretty profound sigh."

"Nothin' for you to worry about," Bdubs gripes. He taps Lacey with his heels and she meanders forward, huffing out through her nose. He hears Etho laugh as he pulls away, and it's only a second before Etho's at his side again. He tugs Bdubs' hat over his eyebrows.

"Don't be like that, 'dubs!" Etho pouts. "You sounded upset."

"Quit teasin' me," Bdubs grumbles, swatting at him with the hand not wrapped around the reigns. Lacey patters to a stop as Bdubs slackens on the reigns, trying to grab Etho's hat. Etho ducks his head.

"Bdubs!" He laughs, pushing his hands away.

"Quit!"

"You quit!"

Bdubs huffs again, shrinking back, then straightens. Etho's turned away from him, all of a sudden. Bdubs goes to speak, but as he does, he hears Etho say something so quiet it's felt more than heard. 

It's sunset, he's just realized. The orange light leaks through gaps in the trees, casting gold bars over the wheatgrass and dry dirt. He can see light blue leaking into orange, pink, yellow, blending into white clouds above him. This time, the profound sigh whistles out of Etho's chest. Bdubs bites his tongue. Haloed by the gold light, Etho looks like the type of things only lonely cowboys dream about. The perfect outlaw, or the hardworking ranch hand, or the kindhearted sheriff looking for love. The things you read in dime novels, no matter the flavor of romance. Bdubs feels his heart squeeze, the want pooling in his elbows and the joint of his hips. He won't sigh again, or make any other sound, not as long as Etho watches the sunset. 

"Wow," Etho mumbles. His horse snorts. Etho huffs a laugh, reaching just far enough to pet between his ears. "Wow..."

"It's gorgeous," Bdubs says. He'd be lying if he said he was talking about the sunset.

Etho turns back to him after a beat. Bdubs's eyes flick up to his face, tilting his head a little as Etho's soft eyes linger on him. He can see the indistinct scarring up part of his face, near his eye and eyebrow. Tugging off his gloves, Bdubs raises a careful hand up to Etho's face. There, he tucks two fingers in the space between his cheek and the scarf over his face, and tugs it down. Etho doesn't stop him. In fact, he's smiling just so when Bdubs does. He's got nothing to hide, really—the scarf is for the dust, more than anything else. He scrunches his nose as the scarf falls around his neck.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Bdubs says softly. His hand cups Etho's cheek, thumb smoothing over the rough, scarred skin of his left cheek. Fire. They're all healed burns. His thumb dances over them anyway, like he'd never seen them or brushed them or kissed them before. Two long strands of hair frame Etho's face. Here, Bdubs tucks one of them behind his ear, still moving to cradle his face. The look that passes over him makes Bdubs' stomach fold over. He's smiling, wide and soft, and his eyes shut as he leans into Bdubs' palm.

"Hiya, Bdubs," Etho mumbles. His voice hits a low octave as he whispers. Bdubs flushes. Etho's hand falls to Bdubs' hip, both steadying for himself and for Bdubs' balance, thumb pressed into his hipbone as he leans forward into Bdubs' space. Etho's hand comes to tip his hat back as far as it'll go before it knocks from his head, scrunching up his nose as Bdubs' flush grows a little warmer, a little further over his cheeks and ears. He's smiling, though, and so is Etho. Bdubs can't help it—he was just so damn handsome, that stupid cowboy. Damn him. He keeps himself lingering in Etho's space for a beat longer, tracing out the high of his cheek with his thumb. The sun's still setting, warm and orange behind him. He can't even see stars yet. 

"Can we stay?" Bdubs asks, sighing out his nose. His eyes flick behind Etho's shoulder for a moment, watching the bars of light through the trees. "Just to watch?"

Etho smiles, his eyes going all soft and round like they do when Bdubs says something he particularly likes. Must've liked that, then. He noses Bdubs' palm just a little, looking up into the sky before settling on Bdubs' face again.

"Sure," Etho mumbles. "Why not? Stars haven't even come out yet."

Bdubs grins, knocking their foreheads together, a soft laugh bubbling up in his chest before it leaves him with his exhale. Etho scrunches his nose. 

Leaning forward as far as he can, Etho kisses him. His warm, gloved hand fits over the back of his neck, brushing through the close cropped hair there. His lips are chapped from the dusty air, but they're dry and warm and Bdubs feels Etho hum against his mouth. He presses back and up into him, free hand falling to his knee to stabilize himself. Etho pulls in a fast breath through his teeth and kisses him again, firm but gentle. Bdubs shuts his eyes and keeps them shut, feeling Etho's hand curl against the base of his skull, feeling them work in tandem with each other. It's nice and easy and tender in a way that curls up in Bdubs' chest and rests there, calmly. It's sweeter than anything else he knows, or damn near close to it. 

He smiles against his lips, dragging his thumb in a slow line across the rippled scar on his cheek. He's so gentle with him, Etho is, as he is with Etho, up until the point of course that they're chasing each other around on foot and on horseback and scrapping in the dirt just to prove a point. But here it's intentional. Bdubs rubs his cheek and that scar so Etho knows he wants to feel it He wants to feel where it starts at the high of his cheekbone and ends just under the low dip of his eye, how the uneven surface gives to smoother skin, how it’s all patches of rough and light. He wants to see that it cuts through his eyelid and eyebrow and that the eyebrow never really grew back and his hearing wasn't always that good in that ear. He wants to. He loves him. To love Etho was to love each thing he called an imperfection. 

"I'll be damned, cowboy," he mumbles under his breath. Etho laughs, just a little, from somewhere high in his chest.

"What's that?" he asks, crushing his cheek into the heel of Bdubs' hand. Bdubs shakes his head.

"Nothin', gorgeous."

"Mmh," Etho agrees. Bdubs can tell his face is warm from more than just the desert heat. 

"You liked that, mm?" he says. He leans up to kiss Etho just once, sighing out through his nose.

Etho nods, stilted, still flushing as Bdubs draws himself and his hand away. There's a moment that Etho's hand stays warm and solid on his hip and the back of his neck. His dark eyes sweep over him, the clouded vision of his left still trying to focus on Bdubs' face. A soft smile lingers on his face, lifting the edges just enough to form the smile lines Bdubs loves to kiss. They're there more often than not, still fading as Etho's face softens, as he takes care to wash the grime off and soothe his skin with beeswax. They linger for a second before they, and Etho, draw away, settling back on his saddle and sitting up. He stretches, screwing up his expression as Bdubs hears his spine pop.

"Augh," he vocalizes. Bdubs snorts as Lacey does, shuffling her hooves in the dry grass. 

"Let's get a move on then, old man," Bdubs teases, reaching for his reins and to prod the soft of Etho's knee. Etho jerks, trotting his horse a step away from Bdubs hands. There, he sticks out his tongue, fixes his hat, and tucks the bandana around his nose again. There's that familiar shape—sheriff to outlaw, the line of Etho's eyes honing his gaze to razor sharp. Bdubs sighs, letting himself laugh, before he jerks his head forward, pushing his hat back onto his head. He prods Lacey with the heels of his boots and she steps forward into a jog.

Above his head, the wink of stars begin to shine in the dull, pale blue sky. He can still see the lick of orange light like flames above the treeline, cascading over the red-grey and sparse green hills, framing Etho in a delicate picture. Bdubs grins, eyes settling on his partner behind him. He sees Etho's eyes squint as he presumably smiles. Nudging a little more, Bdubs brings Lacey up to a trot, and further to a canter as he hears Etho laugh, loud and clear across the planes, behind him.

In the distance, he can see the warm cast of oil lamps they lit before they left. As much as Bdubs' bones crave the man not even a few yards behind him, they ache for the cool halls of their house, warm coffee, and the light he can just barely catch in the rising night.

Later that night, Bdubs scrapes congealed fat out of the cast iron skillet Etho cooked in. His body and stomach are heavy with the meal they’ve just finished, beans and pork and cornmeal grits, the taste of whatever last few seasonings Etho had thrown in still lingering between his teeth. He scrubs the pan in the hot water, feeling out what were nicks in the pan and what was dirt. He’d hate to ruin the seasoning they’d just built up on the pan. He raises it from the soapy water after a moment, giving it a good shake as his eyes track over the dusty-grey surface. Clean as can be. As he finishes, toweling off his hands as he lays the skillet to dry, he turns back to the room behind him. 

It’s starting to smell a bit like coffee and a bit like woodfire smoke, the embers of their fireplace and stove fire still filling the room. Etho has tucked himself on the couch, knitted blanket draped over his shoulders and a book open on his folded legs. That was one thing about the desert that Bdubs never got used to—it got cold quickly. The air seeped the heat right out of the ground, right underneath your feet, as soon as the lick of sunshine from the day was gone. Etho had the right idea, curling himself into the smallest spot on their worn couch, blanket drawn tight around him, enough to where only his socked feet poked out. He’d tied his long hair up and away from his face, stark white locks delicately balanced on the top of his head. Bdubs hums as he wanders over. 

Etho picks up his head, blinking slowly at him. His gaze seems far away as it pins on him.

“Hi, Etho,” Bdubs says, scrunching up his nose. “You fall asleep on me after dinner?”

“Mm?” Etho questions. He shakes his head. “No, no, never.”

Bdubs snorts. As he stands beside the front of the couch, Etho’s hand comes out, his cold fingers wrapping around Bdubs’ wrist. Bdubs makes a small, startled sound, but lets Etho tug him forward and onto the couch beside him. He was deceptively strong—it was the one thing nobody would guess about him. Well—maybe not the only thing. Etho’s life, much like his own, was so different compared to the docile, almost domestic, ranch life they’d build together. Bdubs sinks into the couch cushions, and not even a beat later, Etho leans his back against his arm. Bdubs’ hum peters into a giggle.

“Y’know,” he starts. “I’m not sure I believe you. I think you might me lyin’ to me, Etho.”

“Mm? About what?”

Bdubs shrugs.

“Dunno, you looked pretty dang tired a second ago.”

Etho shakes his head, leaning back a little further. Bdubs gets the message. He shifts around until his leg hooks under Etho’s arm, until Etho can settle back and rest his head and back against Bdubs’ chest. The book rests on Etho’s shins now, all but forgotten as Etho tips his head back to take a look at Bdubs behind him. He seems satisfied with what he sees, because he shuffles to get comfortable.

“I don’t know about that,” Etho drawls, a smile tugging at his mouth. Bdubs scoffs. He kisses the top of Etho’s head, hands cupping around his ears to hold his head still. He feels that smile tug at his cheeks a little more and nuzzles his head for good measure.

“Alright,” he placates. “I’ll believe you for now.”

Etho hums, satisfied.

“Good.”

Bdubs lets his hands fall to Etho’s shoulders. As Etho reaches to pick up his book from his lap, Bdubs shifts him a bit more, sitting upright. His hands fall to Etho’s upper back, before he starts to shift his hair, unweaving it from where it had balanced atop his head. Etho seems to pick up on his message, sitting forward a bit as Bdubs begins to comb his fingers through Etho’s white hair. 

It’s much longer than it’s ever been, Bdubs thinks—it must be. He doesn’t think it’s ever been past his shoulders when they were together before, and definitely not when Etho was a sheriff. He’d never get away with hair past his shoulders. It was bad enough that he got so many nasty scars from scrapes and threats and whatever people threw at him. Bdubs smooths his hand down the back of his neck, feeling out the base of his skull. It’s painful to think of what Etho had to get through to get here. His hair must be a testimony to that, the fine, white-blond strands reaching to just past his shoulderblades. Bdubs is careful as he weaves his hands through, tucking stray strands behind Etho’s ears, combing back from his widow’s peak to the base of his head. 

He was a criminal before he was a sheriff—Bdubs remembers that. He remembers it because he was one, too. Pretty damn good. It was hard, though. Hard on Etho, who was just trying to do something with his life, to put his artistry to work, his craftsmanship. When he finally landed a job, the gang was already falling apart. He wasn’t even the first to leave—someone left for a damn sheriff. And Bdubs had laughed, then. He watched Etho set his hat on Bdubs head and felt those now memorized, strong hands squeeze his shoulders. 

He found him again when Etho walked past the tiny 3-by-3 cell Bdubs had managed to worm his way into. Wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes? The fine line of Etho’s jaw cuffed by a high collared marshal's uniform, badge and all, hat pulled low over his eyes. He hadn’t meant to lock himself up in there, but as soon as he was out, he promised Etho he’d never go back. And he never did. He sat himself at the strong wooden desk catty-corner to Etho’s and dispensed justice like he’d never done a wrong deed in his life. They were fair, though. Nothing but fair. No blood but on their teeth or nose or throat. No blood on their hands.

Etho sighs warmly as Bdubs starts to braid his hair. He keeps a firm hold on the strands he weaves in and out of each other, working slowly and carefully as he absorbs himself in thought. He was there for a lot of Etho’s life. But he wasn’t there when Etho got his scar. He only saw it afterwards, during that first time he saw him from that cell. 

Etho had described it late one night, after all was said and done between them, their bodies pressed so close in the same, small bed in Etho’s home that there wasn’t a molecule of space left. He’d let Bdubs trace the valleys and ridges of the burnt skin, tucked his face into Bdubs neck to breathe out a wet sigh. Coals and fire—not an accident like Bdubs had always presumed. He’d weaseled himself out of their gang of bandits, but it’s not always that the life of bandits leaves you. He’d messed up an order for another group, he’d said, when he finally got a job as a metalsmith. Too few bullets. It was a lie. He’d known from the shape of the man's mouth as he’d spoken it, but his face found the furnace regardless. Hot ash, coals, smoke in the back of his throat. It had been a long time since he’d been really able to see out of that eye. It hurt to read. It was too blurry to focus. 

Now, Bdubs knows, Etho focuses and reads just fine. And Bdubs drags his fingers over his skin like it were any other part of him to touch. And touch he did. Hey! He wasn’t ashamed of himself! He spent a good few years loving this man and he was allowed to love him right and true. Whatever Etho wanted, Etho could have. He’d build him a terracotta and tile ranch house, with darkened oak and stained wood floors, a fireplace big enough to hang a kettle in, horses, cows, dogs, cats, wheatfields tall enough to lose himself in. The rolling hills of the valley were endless. They’d find a homestead, a life, friends, family, anywhere they went. And so they went. And they found the ones they’d loved all along just as they thought they would. 

Bdubs cards his fingers through the braided hair for a final time, letting it hang loose and wavy around Etho’s shoulders. He instead maps the rise of his spine with his palm, listening to Etho hum and feeling his heartbeat.

“How’s your book?” Bdubs asks softly. Etho nods.

“Good,” he says, just as quiet. “It’s a real tough read, ‘Dubs.”

Bdubs glances over his shoulder as Etho leans back into his chest, trying to catch a glimpse at the cover. Etho’s tucked the book under his knee, though. He can’t even peek at the type of book it is.

“Mm?” he says. “Is that so?”

“Mmmhm,” Etho drawls. “I’m real deep into some equations that I can’t wrap my head around. It’s this long complicated thing that’s supposed to help determine scale and size of the fractal-izing of light, and how we can use planetary distances to figure it out.”

Bdubs blinks, scoffing. 

“Etho,” he hums.

“I’m trying to figure out how this could be relevant for our growing seasons and how I can best predict rainfall in the valley—”

“Etho—”

“And I’m sure Tango will want to know all about it considering he’s making that huge telescope, don’t you think—”

Bdubs thwaps his head laughing.

“Quit!”

Etho laughs, reaching back to grab at Bdubs hands on his head. They swat uselessly at each other for a moment.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Etho?” Bdubs grumbles.

“You’re just jealous because I understand math,” Etho jeers. “It has nothing to do with how smart I am.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Bdubs huffs. “I bet you read the almanac in your spare time!”

Etho gasps, but the gravitas and dramatic turn he does to worm away from Bdubs is enough to hint that he’s doing it for a reason. He scrambles back, tucking his book behind him as he does. Blue cover. Bdubs doesn’t know many books with a blue cover. Maybe it is the almanac after all.

“How dare you insult my knowledge of flowers, Bdubs!” Etho gasps. “I just know all those things.”

“All those things about the regional weather, too?”

Etho nods, trying to hold back a smile. Liar.

“Mhm,” he says. “All of it. I’ve known it since I was a wee little boy, ‘Dubs.”

Bdubs rolls his eyes.

“I’m sure,” he placates. “Nothin’ to do with how we just moved here a year and a half ago, no?”

Etho shakes his head.

“Not at all. I’ve known it all my life,” Etho says. He can’t fight the smile this time, or the way he draws out the a of his word, his smile growing with it. He finally cracks enough to giggle and Bdubs swats his knee. Etho sticks his tongue out at him.

“And what’s the almanac say about me?” Bdubs asks, watching Etho shuffle back into his corner, looking comfortable. He tilts his head a little, eyebrows furrowing.

“You?” Etho says. “I don’t know. Nothing—I’ve never read it. I doubt they put people in it.” Then Etho smiles, adding: “I can check my book on 100 facts about B-double-O, though.”

Bdubs startles.

“Your book on what?”

Etho snorts, tipping his head back, laughter bubbling out of him. Bdubs jabs him with his socked foot and Etho curls further into himself, still giggling. Bdubs can’t help but smile, though, watching Etho break into a giggling fit over his stupid comment. He rolls his eyes as he peels himself off the couch and over to their bookshelf. Standing there for a moment, feeling the cold seep slightly into his clothes, Bdubs scans for a book. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for yet, but he’ll know it when he sees it. 

In the meantime, he halfway searches for that obviously fake book Etho had mentioned. He snorts, just to himself. A hundred facts, huh?

Plucking one of his well-worn novels from the shelf, Bdubs turns back to the couch. He drops a kiss to the crown of Etho’s head as he passes and Etho is quick enough to pull him down to kiss his cheek. It’s worth it, though, as Bdubs tucks himself back against the other side of the couch and Etho’s legs tangle with his. He loves the stupid smile on Etho’s face too much to care about much else.